#// thinking he lost her ???? Cold as he may be it would still do a number on him

[dont-offend-the-bees]

I would love for Ponyo AU to hear more about a) the seaside town where Edwin lives or b) how the Night Nurse and Kashi met (something which is never addressed in the Ponyo film actually, I think) - apologies if this constitutes a spoiler for future chapters!

Thank you, my friend! Apologies for the delay in answering, life sure keeps life-ing all over me 😑

I did think about choosing an actual British seaside town to set the story in -- we do have plenty of them to choose from -- but ultimately I decided that in the name of the sort of, dreamy imprecise magical whimsy of the piece, that having an exact town you can point to on a map wasn't really what was needed or wanted.

Edwin lives in a Pushing Daisies-esque small beach town named something whimsical like Bottleby-Upon-Tweed or West Wombling or some such achingly British nonsense, and it's all brightness and noise and candy striped colours in the summer and a desaturated frame of salt-roughened old celluloid in the winter. Those two mirroring states are sort of reflective of our POV characters. The POV of the overall fic is a little muddled, there may be parts where it leans more heavily into Edwin or Charles (the growing up sequence ended up almost entirely Edwin, which I regret a bit now!) but there will often be asides to both in the same section because in my mind they're sort of learning to see the world not just through their own eyes but through each other's; Edwin, who's tired of this grey old place and these grey, miserable people, and Charles, who sees the world on the shore as this big exciting adventure. It's an odd balance and one I defo didn't nail in chapter one because I was still sort of percolating ideas, but there's a tribute to both of their viewpoints in the way I'm trying to build this fictional town around them out of drab and dour things like cold cliffs and beach litter and panopticon-esque family homes that watch you with their beady window-eyes, and out of larger-than-life adventure set pieces like killer seagulls and travelling circuses (woops chapter 2 spoiler!) and the same house again but as a castle on the hill, a stronghold. Essentially, the town is a Frankensteined scrapbook of your quintessential English beachside town, cobbled together by two children with very different memories of how the summer holiday went!

And as for Night Nurse and Kashi, well, I won't go into what the later chapters hold for them, but I have no idea how much of their backstory will make it into the fic, so. In the interest of anyone who wants to keep that part of the fic a complete surprise I'll pop it under a cut!

N.N. and Kashi aren't the focus of the fic, so I wouldn't say I've thought through every aspect of their relationship/backstory, however as soon as their role in this fic revealed itself to me I did get way more invested in them than I planned! In this fic, N.N tends to be referred to as either the sea witch, or the witch of the waves (slight Howl's Moving Castle nod, there!), but she has another name, and a relatively well-known role in ancient Greek mythology. What her history is exactly has been somewhat lost to time, oral histories and retellings being what they are, but she was once a powerful sorceress with a gift for transforming people who crossed her into animals. She's had various romantic entanglements and a number of children, all lost to her now.

She'd always lived by the sea and done a number of dealings with some famous -- or infamous -- sea-dwellers, so it was a happy coincidence that one day she happened across a strange and friendly man on the docks. He was an odd man, seemingly totally unbothered by the pain and strife in the world; and she, being a woman who'd lived through a great deal of tiresome human loss and pettiness (of literally mythic proportions), found herself drawn to him. He turned out to be a minor god of the sea and a self-described inveterate wonderer, always swimming from ocean to ocean, never having had enough of all the world can show him, but his kindness and his refreshingly direct manner of speaking seduced her, and she gave up on the world of men for good to live on the bottom of the sea -- and grew to adore it so much that she's now quite sure that the world could do perfectly well without the land or the humans in the picture, actually. They love each other very dearly, in their strange way, they're honest with each other; and she's never begrudged him his lifestyle, or his adventures, or his infrequent and unpredictable visits.

...She does take SLIGHT issue when that ridiculous overgrown seahorse of a man blows back into her neck of the woods with a winsome smile and a fresh batch of magical immortal fish-children smuggled under his arm like souvenirs from abroad, but. Fortunately for him she's been a mother before and even finds herself missing it on occasion; although the sort of broods this man produces are FAR larger than any she's had to deal with in her human years. No wonder she's just a tad stressed.

[nyt1ba]

     Loss was a tragedy never absent from his life,   while others would relish in what little life that sprouts from the ashes,   his eyes would only settle on the darkness.   The shadow of death lingers overhead,   an ever-present reminder of all the slaughter his actions had let loose and all that would follow in his wake.   It seemed more like an old companion when it overshadowed her,   standing close,   waiting patiently to claim her as well.   It's a new kind of fear he hadn't known for long,   distinct   &.   unavoidable.   It gave way to an irrationality very uncommon of him,   to break a strict punishment to utter what he kept locked in his heart                    to ask her to live when she had been so sick and weary of it.   An undeniable regret still sits at heart for a need he had renounced long ago,   viewing it as something selfish and cruel when in truth it was an expression of love he never thought himself capable of anymore.   But as all good things are,   they fade away with the merciless stretch of time,   a curse laid upon him to lose more than he can ever salvage and fix.   It's all a blur,   swallowed into a grief never soothed by the ages.   Ever since Elektra and Artemis landed on earth,   there were others that had found their way to the desolate planet,   bounty hunters foolish enough to think they can go against her fire if they hadn't been snuffed out by Naytibas before they could ever find her.   It was an attempt in an ambush like any other,   an easy practice for her to break away from the monotone of tasks she would take across the wasteland to lighten his load whilst he monitors from his drone.   However,   as the battle progressed,   a grim recognition falls upon him,   it wasn't a random ambush but a planned one.   They were delving deeper into an Alpha's territory,   [   most likely tipped by Mother Sphere's and her newly found alliance with the collation.   ]   His warnings are all in vain as the Alpha Naytiba emerges to greet them rather eagerly,   the next thing he knew was blood,   no indication of life,   all vitals reduced to a thin line.

  He doesn't remember much,   only the consuming rage as the hunters boarded their ship to flee now that they had accomplished their goal.   Their flight quickly coming to a crash,   split through by the Elder descending with the speed   &.   burning light of a meteor colliding into earth.   The aircraft is then seized and sent flying at the Alpha,   forcing it to stumble into rock and debris.   He isn't here for a fight however,   not originally.   It's the ruins she had been buried under was that came to look through,   a desperate hope that she had somehow survived   ...   or a wish to bury her somewhere more fitting.   Pushing through rock and dirt he finally found her,   bloodied and cold to the touch.   She's carried carefully into the safety of his arms,   with his light he can see the wounds closing and yet,   nothing,   no breathing,   no flutter of eyelashes,   nothing.        ❛❛   El   ...   ❜❜        it's a quiet call,   cold and empty,   perhaps in temporary denial,   or the familiarity of grief that had left him so void and lifeless.   A calm before the storm.   The echo of the Alpha in a hunger for blood calls forth a similar fury deep within the nothingness,   easy to influence now in his own instability.   Though he's gentle as he lays her to rest on the ground,   what follows then is an unrestricted surrender to frenzy.   He lunges forward,   talons stretched to grasp at its face,   a glow results in a blast to send it from whence it came,   it only fuels the Alpha into further rage,   and him in turn,   they collide again,   tearing at one another so mercilessly.   Excellent control   &.   synchrony of sword and spears are nowhere to be found,   a display of the brute and animalistic,   claws tearing at flesh with the viciousness of a predator at hunt.   As much as he wanted to deny it,   it was fairly easily to lose himself into rampage,   now in perfect unison with the Hive Mind than the remains of humanity.   It's blinding,   overwhelming,   difficult to break through except by one.   Her voice sounds amidst the chaos that had overtaken him,   bringing him back just in time as claws halt just an inch away from her face.   As realization sinks in,   a newfound terror settles within.   The Elder steps back,   his figure fading into light as he morphs back into his human form.   Adam collapses to the ground,   trying to catch his breath,   anger not yet leaving him,   neither is the sadistic excitement he's trying to smother against himself.   Fingers curl into the dirt,   intermingled with the blood soaking his hands.   What has he done ?   What was he going to do ?   If he hadn't snapped back in time she could've   ...

      [ REACH ] for one muse to reach out and take the other’s hand to comfort them.

  Gentle,   always mindful to his aversion,   the lack of her hand in his was an absence he misses as though he had lost a part of himself.   Though no one else could provide him with a comfort as sweet as her presence,   he can't help the way his own hand whips away before fingers could settle fully on top of his own,   never once caring for his bloodied hands even when it's no longer figurative.        ❛❛   I'm sorry               i               ❜❜        the words remain trapped in his throat,   eyes failing to meet her.   He's relieved she's alive,   but the sentiment is choked out as one thought echoed in his mind relentlessly,   he could have killed her,   and he's fleeing from her tenderness in fear of hurting her in any shape or form.   Still not quite himself at the moment,   difficult to be composed amidst the blood.   Mouth is covered with his sleeve to block the scent,   fighting back a wave of nausea,   it's enticing,   even if it is of his own kin,   the thought disgusts him.        ❛❛   I'm sorry   ...   ❜❜

@stilettaux // call a doctor I'm UNWELL

[anaconamor]

Could you write something about jude realising he’s in love with you (so just his pov)

Just him alone in his room maybe and after so much time denying his feelings he lets himself feel for a little and then realises there’s no back to normal, he’s completely head over heels for you

wait i actually love this?? lmk what you think for future purposes 🤭🤍

while jude always denied to idea of love, falling in love, being in love, there was certain exceptions he made just for you. only you. how he could deny that bubbly and tingly feeling when he saw that smile crawl up to your face?

hear you constantly gush, praise, and adore him about how incredibly he was to you. what you didn’t know is that only you were the only one he was doing this too. he should’ve seen it coming after the first month of him in madrid, new, afraid, yet excited to take on his first season.

while jude sometimes felt shy, with you it was like being a whole complete person. his friends would see it, mom and dad, he’ll even jibe was asking what made this new persona in him suddenly change. it was your effect.

yet here was jude sulking with the biggest frown on his face, his thumbs brushing against the screen debating whether or not to send you a message or just say fuck it and call you. jude knew you would be busy studying on a saturday night, especially since your mid terms were coming up. thinking about how you forced him to help you study your flashcards and he took the whole act seriously.

jude felt out of place, and all he wanted was to be with you so desperately. the longing feeling, to feel how you curl up next to him, blabber about the tiktoks you see or your professor who seemed to teach the opposite of what they were supposed to. why did he feel so desperate, the itch becoming more difficult to the point where his chest would begin to pang with pain at the thought of you not there.

“just call her bro, what do you have to lose?” jude’s teammate encouraged over the phone, jude sideyeing him before he gave up and did just that. he typed out your number, wanting to remember it because he never knew when he may need it. the bubble of excitement yet nerves built insides him, jude sipping on his tea before he heard your tired voice.

“hi jude, to what do i owe this pleasure?” you teased, jude holding back a chuckle before replying. “ha ha, very funny. what are you up to right now?” he asked playing with the strings of his hoodie, “i just finished studying for the night, i couldn’t focus properly but it was the same material from this whole week,” you sighed. “is everything okay?” jude asked, practically seeing your nod over the phone. “yes it is now.”

“do you want to come over?”

if jude spent another hour debating he would’ve lost it. but now that you were here, right where he wanted, he wasn’t going to let you go. “okay cookies are made!” you said excitedly, jus expressing behind you and kissing your head. his normal and lovey habit. which you didn’t refuse either. “i picked out a few movies we can watch in the mean time,” he said dragging you to the couch.

jude’s heart couldn’t stop racing. he felt like he could’ve exploded any second now. your scent, the homey feeling, your smile, your touch it was driving him insane. he knew it was beyond playful feelings. he was head over heels for you, and if he didn’t confess now he would regret it later on. he shifted in his spot, making you pull away from him while still watching the tv. “come back here,” jude pouted.

“you’re so needy,” you joked but it was the whole truth. “y/n?” jude’s voice trembled, your eyes drawn to his immediately to ensure he was okay. jude felt a cold tingle spread down his spine, feeling more alive then ever. “what’s wrong-”

“you know you mean the world to me right?” jude started shifting up and getting closer to you, your touch hot against his hands. “i do?” jude nodded, tracing his initials against your skin. “you’re my whole world, y/n…”

“jude stop joking like that,” you pulled away, looking him up and down, but you could tell something felt different from this, from usual times. “i’m not, im being serious right now. i’ve avoided it forever with fear of hurting you or what we have but i don’t care about that now. i’m done waiting and avoiding how i feel,” jude stressed.

“what are you saying,” you asked, jude’s heart wrenching and pounding louder then when he played a game. “i’m saying that i love you and i have for the longest now,” jude said staring into your eyes but all he heard was laughter escaping your lips. “yeah you’ve lost it now,” you got up and went to the kitchen unable to get rid of the gut feeling.

jude was more nervous then ever, your small rejection getting to him more then it should’ve. “y/n why would i lie to you about something like that? you’re all i think about day and night. during training, when i see those silly panda stickers all over my room, or that damn scent you have engraved here,” he pointed to his chest.

“i’m so incredibly in love with you y/n. im tired of just pushing my feelings away because i was being selfish. im ready now, im ready for you. for us. i want to whatever it takes to make you happy with me. all i want is you, you y/n,” jude cried out, his voice pleading the hear him out. to take him out the misery he felt. for you to confess as well.

“jude-”

“y/n please say you love me back… that’s there’s a chance for us, please my love…”

[lordofdestructionm]

The not so subtle sentimentality of Mordecai Heller

With the Lackadaisy Short Film  teaser trailer hitting over 800K views one line from Serafine got me thinking about a side of Mordecai that is not often discussed but is crucial to his character and may play a key part in the comics story before the end

Though it is easy for both other characters in the story and readers to see Mordecai as just a cold killer that cares more about stains on his shirt than ending multiple lives in grizzly ways (and that is true for anyone who makes the mistake of getting in the way of him completing his work) a closer look reveals that, while reserved for a short list of people, there is a strong streak of sentimentality hidden behind the buttoned down aloof professional persona he tries so hard to maintain

His Mother and Sisters

Mordecai was dealt a very bad starting hand in life. With his father dying when he and his sisters were still very young, despite his loving and hard working mother doing her best to provide for them, the family lived in poverty in the slums of New York

As a result Mordecai has to start working at a very early age and being naturally gifted with numbers he becomes a book keeper and soon enough gets drawn into running the numbers for gambling and loan sharking gangs.

All of this was done to try and make life better for his mother and his sisters. In a flashback to when he was on the run from the criminals he had been working for after being caught embezzling funds from them, his life is in danger and he needs to get out of town in a hurry and so jumps on a train in either 1920 or 1921.

Despite this he fixates on writing a letter to send to his mother in which he explains the location of his ill gotten savings and urges her to move with his sisters to cleaner better ventilated housing.

Because the money wasn’t primarily for his benefit

Mordecai clearly loved his sisters very much and they could break him out of his reserved bookish demeanor. We can see even as an adult Modecai holds the memory of his childhood with his sisters, impoverished and hard though it clearly was, very close. Close enough that thinking about them are enough to bring out his very small but very genuine smile that could not be further away from his “ice pick look”.

Atlas

The next imporant relationship in his life is with Atlas May. When on that getaway train he soon realized that cut throats from his former employers are already in the carriage waiting for their moment to pounce

Mordecai is 100% certain that he is about to get a bullet to the head and the tunnel will provide the hitmen with the perfect cover as the darkness and noise descends.

Only for a ray of light to suddenly appear

Atlas gave Mordecai the means to survive, not just by literally giving him what he needed to escape his would be murderers, but by employing him and providing a new purpose when he had nowhere else to go and no idea what to do.

Atlas being dead by the time of the main story, by design we know very little about his personality and relationships with others except for what the people who knew him have to say.

But is is very clear that Mordecai felt a deep loyalty to Atlas. It may even be speculated that he became a surrogate father figure for him, having lost his own father so young and having been moulded while working for him from the scared youth in shabby second hand clothes to a dapper professional bookkeeping bootlegger

This loyalty has not ended with Atlas’s death. He is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery of his murder. This is despite the fact it would be a much smarter move by far for the sake of both professionalism and survival to let dead former employers lie and simply carry out his new role with the Marigold gang no questions asked

Instead it is clear the entire reason he has abandoned The Lackadaisy is not, as Mitzi and the rest think, cold self interest but so he can investigate if the rival gang had any role in his mentors death

Even discussing the topic causes his cold passive exterior to crack and makes him look broken and overwhelmed

Viktor  (You knew this was coming)

As anyone who has followed this account will know this is one of my (and many other fans) favourite dynamics in the series

At fist it seems there is little reason for these two to have any kind of bond. Mordecai is pretty much obsessed with good grooming, high quality tailoring, correct grammar, and tends to go on one-sided rambles when perturbed.

 This clashes hard with the surly Slovak who is often unshaven, relatively casual in his attire, speaks a broken English, and hates people chattering or “noise, noise, noise” as he calls it. Indeed the two often bicker and act as if they can’t stand the other

However for whatever reason, in spite of these big differences, the big bruiser mechanic and the fussy nerdy sharp shooter are able to work very well together and soon become key weapons in Atlas’s arsenal

And in spite of their differences there is evidence, that over the course of the roughly six years they were working together before their bosses death, that these two extremely anti-social personalities actually began to form an unlikely rapport

On the one known occasion when Mordecai actually drank strong alcohol, and predictably got hilariously drunk, one of his chosen topics of conversation is his “friend” Viktor and how “great” he is (including a possibly telling comment about his large physique *cough*)

Mordecai also, despite being the type of person who you would assume would just radiate Scrooge energy, makes a point of buying Viktor a Christmas/hanukka present. Though he keeps up appearances by presenting it as another criticism of Viktor’s fashion sense

Tellingly Viktor voluntarily wears the tie for the rest of the day, something only Ivy (someone Viktor treats as a surrogate daughter) is able to get away with as well.

The two also not only work well together in a professional capacity, but seem to truly look out for each others welfare when on the job. Not only does Mordecai save Viktor from being shot while distracted, Viktor then goes out of his way to retrieve Mordecai’s pince-nez from the staircase of a burning building

While a hilarious moment as Mordecai fails to react in the “correct” way to having just survived a bloody shoot out, it also sums up his entire attitude to people, that he separates the world into those who count and those who don’t. The former are a short list

Viktor, along with the others on here, counts for Mordecai

This is made clear at his chat with Mitzi at the lunch meeting.

Mordecai may have kneecapped Viktor when he left the Lackadaisy gang, but from what we know now this was clearly an attempt to get Viktor out of harms way by forcing him to retire from bootlegging, and quite possibly to avoid Marigold putting him in a position where he would have to fight Viktor if he was told to finish off the failing speakeasy. Something he could hardly refuse if he wanted to keep investigating Atlas’s death

Mitzi seems to know Viktor is a chink in Mordecai’s armour, and of course exploits that to the fullest. When she informs him that his theft of the Lackadaisy arsenal put Viktors life in danger Mordecai’s face makes less than neutral expression

As Mitzi keeps twisting that screw Mordecai knows he is in danger of giving something away and with Asa right next to him he needs to restore his barriers.

In this case quite literally using a menu to cover his face to ensure he doesn’t slip up again

It seem to work as Asa laughs of the idea of Mordecai having a heart beneath the cold exterior (something we know is a big mistake)

Even when the attention is off him and the topic of conversation moves on his gaze remains firmly fixed down at the table.

Until Atlas lets slip some crucial information about Atlas’s last days. So much for there being “no heartstrings to tug on”

I am sure the Lackadaisy Animated Movie is going to be amazing and hopefully will only lead to ever more popularity and attention for this amazing world and its characters

[joelalorian]

Fevered Flame

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature. This is my first time writing Marcus Pike and I hope I did him justice. I learned a few things about myself during this process, the most important being that I am incapable of writing porn without plot, or a romantic angle, apparently. This story turned out waaaaay different than intended because of that. I apologize now for the plot heaviness between sexy bits.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

Warnings: Explicit 18+, too much plot, heat making people cray cray, sexy sweatiness, lots of cursing (I’m from New Jersey, I can’t help it), nonsensical crime stuff, a plot that came straight outta left field, protected and unprotected sex (p in v), pussy eating and cock sucking, inappropriate use of an ice cube and hot springs. No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname and boobs, otherwise, I tried to keep her a blank slate. Some terms of endearment. IDK, there’s probably more but I can’t think right now.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this utter ridiculousness. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Moodboard by me.

Masterlist

Still reeling from the aftermath of Theresa Lisbon choosing that pontificating windbag Patrick Jane over him nearly a year ago, Marcus Pike buried himself in work. The transition from Texas to DC and adapting to leading a whole new team took his mind of his misery. However, the lonely nights in his new home, the one purchased with hopes of building a life with Theresa in mind, were untenable and he took on more fieldwork than someone at the director level typically would. Hence why Marcus found himself driving through the desert to some quirky small town in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences.

What the fuck kind of name was that for a town, he wondered idly as his right hand pumped the rental car’s AC to full blast. Having already stripped off his suit jacket and tie, Marcus sweat clear through his lavender dress shirt within minutes. The heat was ungodly. Surely it couldn’t be normal. How could people live like that?

Eyes scanning the dashboard display of the mid-size SUV the agency rented for him, they nearly bugged out of his head at the temperature reading. Lit up in glaring red, the numbers 121°F taunted him as sweat dripped down his temples.

Jesus Christ. Death Valley had nothing on this place.

Marcus steered the vehicle toward his hotel, opting to change into something a little more suitable for the local climate before checking in with the agent representing the local field office. The FBI put him up in a supposedly nice hotel, though he didn’t have high expectations of what that meant in a town like this. As long as the AC worked, he’d survive.

Thirty minutes later, Marcus took his second shower of the day, this one much colder than the last, and jumped back into the SUV in an outfit more typical of a golf outing than an FBI investigation. It was the best he could do with what he packed. The local agent texted him the address of an art gallery, the first in a series of apparent crime scenes, and he plugged the address into the GPS.

Normally, you didn’t mind the heat, preferring that to cold winters, but this current heatwave was beyond ridiculous. You sweat just by simply existing. You never experienced anything like it in the five years you’d been stationed in Albuquerque, and you suddenly found yourself longing for the bone-deep cold of a northeastern winter as you waited for the DC agent to arrive.

The chilling sea breeze of a New Jersey winter sounded like heaven right now.

A sleek silver SUV pulled up next to your government-issued sedan and you watched with an assessing gaze from the driver’s seat as Director Marcus Pike exited the vehicle clad in khaki shorts and a turquoise polo, trendy aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare of the desert sun. His dark brown hair was short and styled back off his forehead, and a neatly trimmed scruff lined his top lip and jaw.

You knew from a quick glance at his FBI profile that he was a decorated agent, but his government photo did not do him justice. The man was fucking gorgeous in person. Exiting your own vehicle before he caught you staring, you introduced yourself.

He flashed you a smile full of boyish charm when you gave him your name, causing your heart to thump double time. “You can just call me Jersey, everyone else does,” you finished, holding your hand out to shake his.

“Marcus Pike, Director of the Art Crimes Squad in DC,” he replied, his larger hand engulfing yours in a firm, yet not overbearing, shake. “Just call me Marcus.”

The two of you gazed at each other, the sun beating down on you both like laser beams. Holy fuck, Marcus was even hotter up close. Yeah, his FBI file photo did not do him any justice at all. Not wanting to make things uncomfortable by staring too long, you gestured toward the door to the gallery.

“Shall we?”

Marcus cleared his throat and nodded, following behind you as you strolled casually through the entrance. “Wanna give me a rundown of what we know so far?”

“Sure,” you replied. “We’ve had paintings stolen from several galleries in town. Despite its odd name and small-town status, Truth or Consequences has a rather robust art scene. Lots of expensive art showcased in these galleries.”

Marcus nodded as you gave him some background. He likely read most of this in the file on his flight out here, but you could appreciate the necessity of running over it again verbally. Repetition was the mother of… whatever the fuck that saying was. Your brain was already too fried from the heat.

“The thefts started almost a week ago, not too long after the start of the extreme heatwave this area is currently experiencing. There has been one painting taken every other day so far, always at the peak heat of the day when the townsfolk are too overheated and tired to pay much attention. No eyewitnesses and the thief artfully avoided any surveillance or security cameras so far.”

You watched Marcus jot down some notes, tapping the end of his pen against the small notepad as he reviewed the information.

“So, three paintings taken so far, and it’s still early in the day. I’m guessing we can expect another theft today?” You nodded and Marcus tapped the pen against his bottom lip this time, causing you to avert your gaze before he caught you ogling the plump flesh.

“Have there been any patterns identified?”

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Just in the types of paintings taken so far. They all depict scenes of cool, serene landscapes.”

Dark brown eyes held your gaze. “So, the exact opposite of the current weather situation.”

Again, you nodded. “That’s the only pattern so far. We haven’t been able to determine any order to the galleries hit and, unfortunately, this town doesn’t have the law enforcement manpower to guard all of the galleries and still attend to their normal duties. We do have unis posted at the galleries that haven’t been hit yet, just in case. That’s the best the townies could do though.”

Humming in thought, Marcus walked around the gallery, causing you to scramble to keep up. It was fascinating watching his mind work, his big, brown eyes taking in every minute detail around him. When he stopped in front of the empty spot marking the first stolen painting’s former home, you paused next to him, debating on sharing the only other piece of information you had so far.

“There’s, uh, something strange that may or may not be related to this case.” That got Marcus’ attention and his eyes shot to you once again, brow arched curiously.

“Do tell,” he replied with an encouraging smile. You blinked slowly, trying in vain to maintain your concentration in front of such a handsome man.

“I will on the way to the other galleries. Just… just promise to hold judgment until I finish telling you everything. It’s a little… unorthodox compared to what we’re used, I’d say.” You led the way back to your car, gesturing for Marcus to get in on the passenger side. It made more sense to ride together. Thankfully, you left it running while inside the gallery, making the interior still nice and cool.

Once seated, his head cocked to the side endearingly, the tilt of his lips bordering on an indulgent smile. “Ok, I promise.” The cadence and depth of his soft-spoken voice set you aflame and you had to practically shake yourself to not fall to your knees in praise of this man.

Jesus Christ, Jersey, have a modicum of professionalism and self-respect, will ya, your inner monologue chided. Your libido hyperfixated on the veritable stud before you whether you wanted it to or not. It’d been too long since your last tumble in the sheets, apparently. Recentering your focus, you pulled out onto the main road heading to the next crime scene.

“Good,” you croaked. Feeling the heat creep up your already overheated flesh, you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you can tell, the weather here is ungodly hot – hard to miss it. This is not entirely normal, from what I understand. It’s tempting to chalk it up to climate change, except for one strange thing. Drive twenty or thirty minutes outside of town and the temps are far lower, though still hot by some standards. The temps within the surrounding towns are in line with the more normal averages.”

Brows furrowed, Marcus’ dark eyes searched your face, clearly looking for more context clues. “The heat certainly seemed excessive on the ride over from the municipal airport. I had to stop at the hotel and change or I would have melted to the pavement in my suit.”

You chuckled. “I know the feeling. The average temperature here is supposed to be in the low 90s this time of year, not thirty degrees higher. And the usually cooler desert nights haven’t existed for the past couple of weeks. It’s very strange.”

“And it’s just this town, you say?”

Pulling to a stop in front of the next gallery, you nodded. “Strange, right?”

“Very,” Marcus replied, deep in thought as he followed you inside.

It carried on like that the rest of the afternoon until the heat became just too much after checking out the last crime scene. Like everyone else in town, you sought refuge in the coolest place you could find, which happened to be a hole-in-the-wall pub just off the main street.

Just when Marcus thought things couldn’t get weirder with this town, you led him into a dark and dingy little pub, settling right up to the aged bar. If you weren’t a certified agency employee, he would be terrified that you were luring him to his untimely death.

As it was, the scraggly old barkeep gave him the creeps when he shuffled over, eyeing the pair of you with the same attention he would three-headed aliens. “Coldest beer in town. Two pints?” The man’s voice as rough as he looked, he didn’t wait for an answer.

Marcus shot you a look, eyes wide and uncertain, but you merely shrugged in return. He didn’t normally drink on the job, but between the heat and the early start for traveling, Marcus decided his day was finished. He chugged at the frosty draft when the barkeep placed it in front of him. The old man was right, the pint glass was frozen and small chunks of ice floated in the foamy beer.

“Damn, that’s good,” he nearly moaned, feeling refreshed.

“I know, right?” you replied, nearly half done with your own pint. “I don’t normally like beer, but I could drink it all day long when it’s ice cold like this. Especially in this heat, you know?”

The first round went down easily, and quickly, and the old barkeep, whose name turned out to be Harry, placed another round down before Marcus even thought to ask. The pair of you settled into easy conversation, getting to know each other outside of the job. The more you drank, the more your Jersey accent started to peak through. He found it cute and kept asking you questions just to keep hearing you talk.

Soon enough, any thought left in his mind about Theresa evaporated. How could he still think about his ex-fiancé when a hot, smart, sweet little thing like you sat before him, chatting, and flirting away the evening. Theresa had nothing on you.

It took exactly a fraction of a second to be struck by your beauty that morning. Confident and intelligent, not mention damn good at your job, he quickly realized your natural beauty served as icing on the cake. You were the entire package, and he was trying his damnedest to not charge ahead trying to get you into bed.

Turned out you both had similar relationship history, married too young and divorced, no kids, longed for a dog if only your job didn’t call you away so often. You were practically the female version of him, Marcus thought. It made him all the more curious about you.

Before long, you both ordered some bar grub and went back to talking about the case. Neither of you could make sense of what you had so far. There were vital pieces of the puzzle missing, that much was apparent.

Harry unceremoniously dropped plates full of burgers and fries in front of you, not even trying to hide the fact that he eavesdropped on your conversation.

“You think your case has something to do with the heat?” the old man questioned, leaning heavily on the bar top.

You and Marcus shared a look before you nodded.

“There’s some local lore you might find interesting, then,” Harry said, pausing for dramatic effect and you gestured for him to continue. “Well, as the legends go, the Flame of Quetzalcoatl was hidden somewhere in town centuries ago. They say it was a gem gifted by the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl himself, but who the recipient was no one knows. The gem is said to hold the power of the sun and the wielder of it has the ability to control heat.”

You and Marcus sat there in silence, absorbing the tale Harry just shared. After a few minutes, Marcus glanced at you, doubt clear in his expression.

“This town just gets fuckin’ weirder by the minute, I swear,” he said, sipping at his pint once again. “I might actually believe that little story if I was a few more beers in.”

You laughed, but your face didn’t hold the same doubt as his. “I don’t know, Marcus. If living out here for the past few years has taught me anything, it’s that these Aztec legends are often too close to the truth to blow off.”

Harry harrumphed. “I’d say so, little lady.”

“Besides, it’s the best we’ve got right now,” you said, nudging Marcus’ shoulder with yours. “Couldn’t hurt to play that angle until a better lead pops up.”

Marcus found himself agreeing, much to his surprise.

Over the next few days, you and Marcus researched as much as possible about local lore related to Aztecs, searching for any hint of what Harry told you. In that time, three more paintings were stolen. The thief started leaving little clues as if to goad law enforcement.

The first cryptic clue further convinced you of the potential voracity of the Aztec legend. Written in drip red paint in the spot where the fourth painting had been located, Marcus suspected the thief meant it to look like blood.

When the feathered serpent sheds its skin, the heat will rise.

“Holy shit,” you gasped when you first read it. Turning to Marcus, you declared, “Quetzalcoatl was known as the Feathered Serpent.”

His dark brown eyes widened, meeting yours in shock. “No way.”

You nodded, flipping through your notepad to find your most recent notes on the case. “Yes way. That book we borrowed from the Historical Society talked about it. Remember?”

Marcus nodded slowly as the information came back to him, his eyes searching yours, trying to make sense of this completely bizarre case. “Didn’t the book say something about Quetzalcoatl being a signal of transformation? Think the clue has something to do with that?”

“Yeah, could be.”

The pattern continued the next day with another clue left behind.

Where the earth boils and the water steams, the gem of the sun awaits.

The pair of you debated the meaning of the second clue over cold beer at Harry’s pub. As the case evolved, so did the connection between you and Marcus. You both flirted unashamedly when you weren’t talking about the case. It turned out the agency put you both up at the same hotel – your rooms on the same floor even. You were beginning to hope that he would make a move, yet completely terrified of that happening at the same time.

Despite your best efforts, the thief remained one step ahead of law enforcement, somehow managing to steal from galleries you had actively guarded. How in the world was this guy doing it?

Things were slowly coming together once a third clue was discovered.

Seek the place where fire and water dance, and there you will find the sun’s heart.

Without a local FBI office to work out of – the Albuquerque one you worked out of was over two hours away – you’d decided to setup camp in a quiet booth at Harry’s. He kept you full on pub grub and refreshments – soda and water during work hours, of course – and chipped in with his local knowledge whenever he thought it needed.

In fact, it was Harry who guided you toward understanding the latest clues.

“Have you two heard about the hot springs? This town is famous for them.” The old man dropped the nugget of knowledge along with a plate of fries and shuffled away, leaving the two of you to stare after him.

Marcus turned to you; his lips pursed in thought. You ached to nibble on the plump flesh of his bottom lip, to feel the gentle scratch of his facial hair against your soft skin as you did so.

“Where the earth boils and the water streams,” Marcus recalled the second clue in that delicious, soft-spoken voice of his, sending a wave of gooseflesh over your skin. “Seek the place where fire and water dance.”

Shaking your head free of naughty thoughts, you focused on the clues and the knowledge bomb Harry dropped, picking right up on Marcus’ thought process. “Fire, heat, and water... The hot springs!”

Marcus beamed at you; eyes sparkling as he came to the same realization. “It has to be. Makes sense, right?”

“Sure does,” you agreed, grinning back at him. “But there must be a ton of them. How would we ever find the right one?”

Sitting back in his seat, Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to keep digging. Do you still have that book from the Historical Society? Maybe there’s something else in there to help us.”

“It’s back in my room,” you reply. “Fancy ordering room service at the hotel while we go over the clues again?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What was he thinking, agreeing to go back to your room to continue working on the case.

An unwitting temptress already, how was he supposed to control himself when you invited him into your room for dinner, drinks, and after-hours casework?

In the already excessive desert heat, Marcus was sweating bullets as he followed you into your room, conveniently located only a few doors down from his own.

“I have a bottle of cab, is that good?” you questioned, kicking off your shoes with a sigh before reaching for the screw cap bottle.

Audibly gulping, Marcus squeaked out an assent and wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts. He glanced around the room to distract himself, noting happily that you were a tidy traveler, much like himself.

“I have bottled water as well. Would you like one?” Marcus nodded. With an indulgent smile, you held out the small ice bucket. “I like mine over ice. Would you mind?”

Eager for a moment to clear his head, Marcus grabbed the bucket. “No problem.” The echo of your chuckle followed him as he rushed out the door.

“What is wrong with you, dude?” he whispered to himself as he strolled down the hall to the ice machine. “You don’t even know if this woman wants anything more than just reviewing the case. Calm the fuck down.”

Feeling a little calmer and more under control after his private pep talk, Marcus knocked on your door with the full ice bucket in hand. You let him in with a broad smile that nearly made his heart stop.

“Perfect.” Plucking the bucket from his hands, you returned to the makeshift kitchenette area to fill two cups with ice and water. Two glasses of cabernet were already sitting on the tiny table in the small designated sitting area of the hotel room.

Marcus joined you on the couch, case file in hand, seated close due to the limited space. You dove right in to discussing the case, easing his nerves. The pair of you compared the facts of the case, debating theories and potential connections. Without any physical evidence, you still didn’t have any viable suspects, which was incredibly frustrating for both of you.

“I’ve never had a case like this,” Marcus said. “It’s hard to believe that this could all relate to a myth about an ancient god. It feels weird even saying that aloud.”

“I know. It’s giving me Twilight Zone vibes.”

With the lack of viable suspects serving as a brick wall in furthering the investigation, conversation switched to other topics.

“You’re from New Jersey?” Marcus asked. “What brought you out here?”

“Yep, born and raised at the Jersey Shore,” you replied, that northeastern accent peeking through as you drank more wine. “Classic reason for relocating – I followed a guy, the one I told you a little about. We got married young and one day he woke up and decided he wanted a change of scenery. I followed along without argument, and we wound up out here. Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Ahh,” he said with a nod. “That asshole.”

“Yeah, that asshole.”

From what you told Marcus about your ex-husband, he knew the guy was a real piece of work. Classic narcissist who beat you down emotionally the entire time you were together. Marcus was happy that you kicked the guy to the curb two years ago and the divorce finalized last year. No one deserved to be treated like that, especially you.

“Are you going to stick around here now that’s all over with?” He found himself curious about your future plans.

Shaking your head, you laughed. “Hell no. I put in for a transfer already, for anywhere on the east coast closer to home. I’m no picky.”

Marcus perked up at that. The DC headquarters always had openings. He’d get to see you again if you were transferred there. “I could put in a good word for you, if you’d like. You’re a great agent from what I’ve seen so far.”

Ducking your head bashfully, you peeked at him through your lashes. “That’s pretty high praise coming from a director,” you deflected.

“I mean it, Jersey.” He kept his voice low, using your nickname for the first time, and watched in delight as you shuddered.

The air in the room shifted, sexual tension thick and nearly overpowering. Marcus watched as your pupils dilated, lust overtaking the previous sparkle. He gulped when your tongue darted out to lick your lips tantalizingly.

Shifting ever so closer, your scent washed over him. You smelled fucking delicious, hints of cocoa butter and salty sweat, reminding him of the beach. His shorts suddenly became tighter, his cock twitching to life. He wanted to devour you.

The next thing Marcus knew, your lips were pressed to his as you basically ripped the clothes from each other’s bodies, the now empty bottle of wine knocked from the table to the carpeted floor in the process. Despite the cool air pumping from the air conditioning, your skin felt hot to his touch.

Licking into your mouth, savoring the taste of you mixed with the bite of wine on your tongue, Marcus steered you backwards until your hamstrings bumped against the mattress. He eased you down onto the bed, detaching his lips from yours to take in the electrifying sight of your naked body splayed before him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his fingertips tracing down your smooth skin slowly, teasingly from your neck to your toes.

Your eyes, blown wide with need, burned into his before dipping down to take in his naked body with a gasp. His cock bobbed eagerly as you stared.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Marcus said, his soft voice filled with awe, matching the wonder in his eyes.

“Me either,” you replied, “but I’m happy it is. You are so fucking gorgeous, Marcus.”

Marcus couldn’t help the blush that pinkened his cheeks. Reaching behind him to the bucket, he plucked a large ice cube from the slowly melting pile. His eyes remained locked on yours as he popped the frozen cube into his mouth, sucking lightly before his tongue pushed forward and his lips puckered as a portion of the ice cube stuck out.

The breath left you when he dipped his head down to run the cube along your clavicle and down across your breasts. Your nipples pebbled beneath the chilly wetness as Marcus directed the ice cube back and forth a few times. He watched delightedly as goosebumps peppered your skin when he moved the cube down your belly in a zigzag pattern.

“Oh, fuck.” Your chest heaved and fingers tightened their grip on the bedsheets when Marcus dipped further down, running the quickly melting cube over your mound and through your slit. The cold nearly shocking to the overwhelming heat of your labia.

Using his tongue to increase the pressure, Marcus circled the ice cube over your clit until you cried out, one hand loosening its grip on the sheets to tangle your fingers in his thick hair. He shifted, plunging the cube into your entrance, pushing as far as his tongue would extend, then leant back to watch your pussy suck the cube further until in melted into mere dribbles of water.

You laid there panting, eyes hooded and wanting, as Marcus dove back in, using his tongue to continue the work he started with the ice cube. He lapped and sucked at your clit, two thick fingers slipping inside you, until you became a blubbering mess, blurting out unintelligible words and moans, finally falling apart beneath his ministrations.

Marcus slurped at the evidence of your long overdue release, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you. His hips thrust against the mattress of their own accord, his body seeking any sort of friction against his aching cock it could find.

“Your mouth is a lethal weapon, Marcus,” you said breathlessly, hands reaching under his shoulders to drag him up your body. “Now let’s see what you can do with your cock.”

His hair flopped forward over his forehead from your fingers tangling in it and he grinned in satisfaction at your comment. His boyish charm proved too much to handle, and you yanked his face down to yours, tongues tangling in a scorching kiss. You nibbled on his plump bottom lip between fervent kisses, savoring the plushness between your teeth.

Whining when he pulled away suddenly, your fingers grasping for purchase to pull him back, Marcus winked at you when he slid off the bed. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right back.”

Digging in his shorts to find his wallet, Marcus pulled out a long-forgotten condom from the tri-fold leather and checked the date on the foil packaging to make sure it hadn’t expired. Content with the remaining half-life, he ripped the package open with his teeth and slid the latex material over his cock.

You beamed at him when he climbed back onto the bed. “I knew you were a smart man.”

Marcus slid up beside your body, turning you so your back pressed snug against his chest. “Safety first, baby. Wrap it before you tap it, right?”

Your laughter became strangled when he slid inside you, splitting you open on his cock. “Oh my god. You feel so good!” you cried when he began to move inside you after a long pause to let you adjust to the sheer size of him.

Marcus started at a slow pace, getting a feel for the way your walls tightened around him. Gripping the bed covers with your right hand, you reached your left hand up and around to tangle in his hair behind you. He picked up the pace as you tugged gently on his locks, his lips peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses.

When, at last, Marcus began pounding into you, you reached between your legs with your right hand to rub your clit. Despite the cool air blowing over your bodies, the heat between you had your skin glistening with sweat. You cried as Marcus hit a particularly pleasurable spot deep within you, his own moans morphing into grunts as you clamped down on him.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight around me. I can feel you clench every time I hit this spot.” His words were murmured into your ear, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. Marcus plunged forward to hit your g-spot, proving his point when you clenched tightly around him once again. “Yeah, just like that.”

You plunged clear over the precipice then, crying out his name and any number of praises as an orgasm overtook you. Marcus talked you through it, his voice like sugary syrup, while he never once let up on his thrusts. Minutes, hours later, he followed you into the overwhelming bliss with a shout of your name followed by a string of curses.

“That was amazing.” Marcus nuzzled your neck as his hips slowed, the last shots of his cum dribbling into the condom. “You are amazing.”

Lost for words, you just hummed in agreement. Knackered from the excessive heat, long day of investigative work, the alcohol, and the mind-blowing sex, you hovered on the edge of sleep while Marcus got up to dispose of the condom. He returned with a wet cloth and cleaned you up with tender dedication. Tossing the cloth aside, he paused, standing naked and uncertain next to the bed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” you replied sleepily, tossing the covers down so you could both slide under them. “I hope you like to cuddle, Mister.”

Grinning at you, Marcus wrapped his arm around you, curving his body around yours. “You bet your ass I do.”

You both fell into an exhausted sleep feeling hopeful and satiated for the first time in a long time.

Waking up in Director Pike’s arms was not something you expected would happen on this case. You fantasized. You hoped. Sure, all of that. But you never, ever expected it would actually happen. But it did and it felt fucking incredible.

You already knew he was damn good at his job. It was impressive to see that his single-minded focus and massive talent carried over to his skills in the bedroom as well. You replayed the night before in your head as you showered, remembering with fondness all the ways Marcus surprised you, how cherished he made you feel, the sheer pleasure he brought you.

How were you supposed to focus on the case now when your mind was completely overcome with thoughts of Marcus. You were almost relieved when he slipped out of the room after sharing a cup of hotel room coffee with you. You weren’t sure you could keep your hands to yourself if he stayed much longer, the rumbled, sleepy look proving almost too adorable to resist.

Marcus met you in the hotel lobby, two large cups of iced coffee and a brown paper bag clutched in his hands an hour after waking up together. “Good morning, Jersey girl,” he greeted you with a wink, dark brown eyes sparkling in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.

You chuckled at the variation of your nickname, already knowing that would become his signature endearment for you. “Good morning, handsome. Long time, no see.”

His grin grew wider. “Come on. Let’s ride together. No sense in taking two cars anymore.” He handed you one of the iced coffees and the paper bag, pulling the keys to his SUV out of his pocket.

Clad in gray cargo shorts, blush polo shirt, and a pair of boat shoes, Marcus looked ready for a day spent on the water rather than investigating art theft. The sight made your mouth water and you gulped at the iced coffee. As he drove, you both munched on the bagels he picked up along with the coffees while waiting for you.

“I figured we’d start taking a look at some of these hot springs to get a feel for them and see if anything else in the clues pops out at us,” Marcus explained between bites. He always chewed with his mouth closed and waited until after he swallowed to speak. You loved a man with impeccably manners.

“Great idea. I put a list of them in the file.”

“I know,” he beamed at you. “I saw it last night, before… It’s what gave me the idea. Thought we’d start with La Paloma and work our way down the list. What do you think?”

You nodded, sitting back in the passenger seat contentedly. Much to your surprise, there wasn’t an ounce of awkwardness between you two after last night’s surprising turn of events. Everything felt natural, like it was meant to turn out this way and you basked in the effortless interactions between you and Marcus.

Marcus spoke to the manager upon your arrival at La Paloma Hot Springs & Spa and the gentleman gave you a quick tour of the facility before allowing the two of you to investigate on your own. You split up to cover more ground, the scent of mineral-rich water tickling your nose as you worked your way through the facility.

Searching the private soaking tubs, you ran your hands along the edges looking for evidence of hidden compartments that might contain the artifact. Still uncertain if that was what you were actually looking for, it didn’t hurt to search. When you found nothing, your focus shifted to the vintage décor including the old photographs hanging on the walls, looking for any signs or symbols that might be a clue.

An hour later, you and Marcus reconvened at the front desk, disappointed that you both came up empty, yet undeterred in your drive to figure out this case.

You visited a number of other hot springs, conducting the same kind of searches yet never finding additional clues or evidence.

“It’s like we’re missing something,” Marcus said as you both climbed into the SUV, burnt out and sweaty, after your latest search came up empty. You’d spent the entire day running from hot spring to hot spring across the small town to no avail.

“Yeah, but what could it be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not just any old hot spring? We need more to go on.”

Just then, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from the TCPD. Another painting stolen right under their noses – or rather, right behind the officer’s back as he turned around while patrolling one of the galleries. The thief had lightning-fast reflexes, apparently.

“Alright, thanks Chief. We’ll head over there now.” You ended the call and relayed the information to Marcus.

“This guy sure is brazen. I’ll give him that,” he lamented, carefully spinning the SUV around to head toward the latest crime scene.

“He’s got some balls, nicking a painting while an officer is standing right there. It’s like he’s begging to be caught.”

“That or he’s just a fucking lunatic.” Marcus met your gaze for a long moment after parking the vehicle. “Is it wrong that part of me hopes we don’t catch him too soon?”

Your heart thumped in your chest, lips quirking upwards into a shy smile. “No, not after last night…” you admitted. “We could always stay a few days after solving the case and explore this.” You gestured between the two of you.

Shutting off the car, Marcus bobbed his head. His previously styled hair fell across his forehead, the heat having worn away the product he used this morning. “I’d really like that.”

The TCPD officer met you at the door and led the way to the scene of the latest theft, his shoulders hunched in shame. “I never saw him; he was there and gone in seconds. Managed to leave this behind though, taped where the painting had been.”

Marcus accepted the paper, holding it up so you could read it.

Where the serpent bathes in earth’s warm embrace, beneath the soothing waters, the heart of the sun lies hidden.

“This message is different. Different, but the same. I mean… I don’t know what I mean,” you sighed frustratedly.

Marcus patted your shoulder in a manner appropriate for a professional audience. “No. I get what you mean. It’s tying the clues together in a different way. Giving us more hints at once.”

Heaving a sigh of your own, you nodded. What a great relief to feel understood. “Exactly.”

Conferring with the forensics team first, you and Marcus departed when they confirmed the thief left no trace evidence behind. No fibers, fingerprints, or hair. Nothing to clue you in on who the thief could be. Nothing, not even on the adhesive used to tape the clue to the wall or the paper itself. The perp was either lucky or extremely tidy.

Seated once again in the corner booth at Harry’s dingy pub, Marcus devoured his burger while you daintily nibbled at your fries. The extremely high temperature ruined your appetite. The case file sat open on the table as you placed sticky notes on a photocopy of the latest clue.

“’Where the serpent bathes’… that has to refer to the hot springs, right? And the serpent would symbolize this Quintessential guy?”

“Quetzalcoatl. The god’s name is Quetzalcoatl, for Christ’s sake,” Harry chimed in as he dropped off a fresh round of cold draft beers.

“Yeah, that guy,” you said, pointing a fry at Harry in thanks. Marcus laughed at your adorable ridiculousness. You made investigating this mind-boggling case fun.

“Right. And ‘in the earth’s warm embrace’ refers to the warm waters of the hot springs as well. That’s caused by geothermal activity, is that correct, Harry?” Marcus questioned.

The grizzled old barkeep lingered by your table, too caught up in his own curiosity to return to his duties. “Mmhmm, that’s what they say. I’m no rock scientist, mind.”

“You mean a geologist?” you chirped, a shit-eating grin gracing your pretty face.

“Yes, you mouthy little shit. Don’t sass me or I won’t help solve this case,” Harry grumbled. For a moment, Marcus worried you would be offended by the old man, but your tinkling laughter convinced him otherwise.

Marcus stifled a laugh when you rolled your eyes playfully and re-focused his attention on the clue. “That could be the earth’s warm embrace part, then. And ‘beneath the soothing waters’ refers again to the hot springs.”

“Uh huh,” Harry chimed in again, pulling the case file closer to him, aged eyes squinting to read your notes. Neither of you would normally let a civilian get so involved in a case, but Harry proved himself integral to solving this particularly challenging and unusual case. Pointing an arthritic finger to the final line of today’s clue, beneath the soothing waters, he added, “It refers to the artifact being hidden there, beneath one of the hot springs.”

Harry slipped into the booth on your side, and you flashed Marcus a smile. The old man was fully invested now. Thankfully the bar was empty but for a few regulars who could help themselves as far as Harry was concerned.

“Ok, so to summarize, we know the hot springs are involved,” you stated, processing the facts aloud as well as in your head. “And we know that the artifact is hidden beneath one of them. The question we’ve been chasing all day is which one, right? So, do any of the known hot springs have a serpent symbol or painting or something along those lines associated with it?”

Marcus shook his head as you flipped through pages of notes. “Definitely didn’t see any in the ones we checked out today.”

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, you two idiots will be my age by the time you figure this out,” Harry stood from the booth, his voice gruff with annoyance, though whether that was from dealing with the two of you or the effort it took to stand with aged, arthritic bones was anyone’s guess. “You’ll want to check out Riverbend Hot Springs in the morning. You’re welcome.”

Mouths agape, you both watched the cantankerous old man shuffle back to the bar, grumbling to himself the whole way.

“Did he just solve the case for us?” Marcus asked when his gaze shifted back to you.

“I think so,” you laughed. “Thank fucking goodness. My eyes were starting to cross from looking at this file so much.”

Looking it up on his phone, Marcus confirmed that the Riverbend Hot Springs were closed until morning. Knowing their work was done for the day, he flashed you a heated look. “Want to go back to my room? Maybe cool off in the shower?”

Marcus had a nicer room than yours, the walk-in shower encased in glass and large enough to fit a few people. The perks of being a director, you guessed.

You barely glimpsed at the room before Marcus backed you against the already deadbolted door. His mouth pressed against yours, tongue dancing along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in eagerly, tongues tangling and teeth clashing with urgency. His hands were everywhere, stripping away your clothes and sliding against already bare skin in turn.

Once you both gave into the spark, stoking the fire into flames last night, the want turned into a blazing inferno that neither of you could extinguish. Not that you wanted to, anyway. No, you were content to burn to a crisp as the fire raged.

Marcus had you stripped naked within minutes, his mouth having never left your own in the process. Eager to return the favor from last night, you sunk to your knees, undoing his belt and shorts as you stared up at him. Marcus tore off his shirt while you shoved his shorts and boxer briefs down his slim hips to pool at his feet.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus moaned as you wrapped your hand around his hardened length, testing the girth and weight of it in your grip. You tugged playfully a few times, getting to know the feel of him. Still staring into his lust blown eyes, you slowly leaned forward to glide the head of his cock around your plump lips before slipping him inside your mouth. A delicious whine fell from his lips when your tongue lapped at the little droplet of precum without breaking eye contact.

Not wanting to torture him unnecessarily, you began to move, taking more of his cock into your mouth until he bumped the back of your throat. Bobbing your head, you soaked his cock with your saliva, sucking every now and then to increase the sensation. Your left hand tugged the base of him where your mouth couldn’t quite reach, twisting with each upward stroke to further enhance his pleasure, as your right hand massaged his balls.

Panting heavily above you, Marcus slapped his palms against the door to support himself as you continued sucking his cock. Experimenting with how far you could take him, you hollowed your cheeks, easing farther down his length and breathed through your nose.

“Jersey girl… ungh. Please, I’m gonna come down that pretty little throat if you don’t stop.” You could feel his thigh muscles flex and twitch with the effort of not blowing his load down your throat as he stuttered out the words.

Taking pity on the man, you eased back until his cock audibly popped out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you until Marcus severed the link by stepping backwards on shaky legs.

“You are too good at that, my little minx. Come here.” Marcus helped you up, leading you into the shower once you regained your balance. He kissed you deeply as the cool water from the shower head cascaded over you both.

The water felt good on your overheated skin and Marcus pressed you backwards against the sturdy glass. Hiking a leg up around his waist with one hand, he gently cradled the side of your face in the other. Your gazes locked as he reached around your thigh and teased your clit.

“So wet for me, my Jersey girl.” Already on edge from sucking his cock, you were drenched and ready for him. “Did sucking my cock turn you on that much, my Jersey girl?” You mewled and, with the slightest shift of his hips, Marcus notched his cock at your entrance, feeding you inch by inch until your walls gripped his entire length tightly. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

Droplets of water rained down your bodies as he thrusted into you, your lips pressed open-mouthed against each other, noses bumping, exchanging breaths and moans without actually kissing. The stretch was intense but pleasurable, and you could feel every ridge of him inside you.

You suddenly realized why that was.

“Shit, we forgot a condom,” you said in between moans, your hands grasping his plump ass to make certain he didn’t stop.

Marcus showed no signs of stopping, his hips almost seemed to pick up the pace. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no!” you gasped; eyes fluttering shut as he nudged that spot inside you just right. “Please don’t ever fucking stop.”

“Ok,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m clean and it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Same,” you replied. “And I’m on birth control, so please, come inside me.”

Marcus groaned deeply at that, his head shifting so he could nip at your neck, soothing the sting with little kitten licks of his tongue. Pulling back, he murmured, “Turn around.”

You did so, whining as he slipped out of you. With a gentle hand, Marcus pushed your upper body against the glass and pulled your hips closer to him so your back arched perfectly. Your tits were pressed up against the glass wall of the shower and, just beyond it, you could see your reflections in the mirror. Only a slight mist of steam swirled in the air from the temperature of the water, and it didn’t hinder your view at all as Marcus closed in behind you, slipping his cock back where it belonged.

You watched your reflections, mesmerized, as he fucked into you, his wet hair flopping over his forehead when he bent forward to kiss along your shoulders and neck. Your hands came up on either side of your head to brace yourself against the glass, hoping that the strength of his thrusts wouldn’t cause it to shatter.

Marcus reached a hand around your thigh, slipping between your legs to pluck at your clit as you fucked you. Every single cell in your body felt aflame, ready to burst at the pleasure racing through you. It didn’t take long for you to explode, eyes squinted shut as you keened.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Come on my cock, my little Jersey girl. I can feel your cum gushing around me. Fuck, baby.” Once again, Marcus talked you through it in the soft voice of his. He continued thrusting as your walls trembled around him, driving him right over the edge after you, rope and rope of cum splashed your walls as he made the loveliest sex sounds in your ear.

You stayed like that, pressed up against the glass with the weight of Marcus leaning against you, chests heaving, until you both came back down from the high. Taking a few minutes to actually wash the day off each other, you settled on the bed wrapped in towels afterwards.

The two of you talked long into the night and, unable to keep your hands or mouths off each other, you had sex twice more before falling asleep.

Unable to come to an agreement on whether backup would be necessary at this point, you and Marcus finally decided to bring one officer to investigate the Riverbend Hot Springs with you. An extra pair of eyes could be useful, on that you both agreed.

Known for its scenic outdoor pools on the banks of the Rio Grande, visitors usually flocked to Riverbend. The facility not only had the hot springs, but hotel rooms and spaces for recreational vehicles as well. The manager was less than pleased when Marcus informed him that any guests present would have to stay in their rooms and out of both the common and private pools during the search. The last thing the investigation needed was public interference or contaminated evidence.

Searching the private pools first to appease the guests and resort manager, Marcus swiped his hand over his sweaty face when you found nothing.

“Let’s check the common pools now,” he sighed, wondering if it would be another fruitless adventure.

Another two hours of searching – lifting stones, moving decorative displays, going inside the pools themselves, even going so far as to request a shovel from the grounds crew to poke around in the landscaping – turned up nothing.

“At least there’s only one pool to go,” you said, trying to stay positive about finding something. “This has gotta be the one, right?”

“Let’s hope,” Marcus replied. Drenched in a mixed of sweat and mineral water, he wanted nothing more than to slip between cool sheets with you and an ice-cold drink. This case sucked.

Located at the far end of the property, overlooking the Rio Grande, a rock wall encased the final pool for support given the topography on the side along the river dipped lower. Marcus directed the officer to start at one end while he joined you in working your way up from the riverbank. Thorough in your search, you left literally left no stone unturned. One particular large slab placed in the landscaping next to the pool like a decorative display required your and Marcus’ strength combined to lift, and you gasped when you saw what sat in hiding beneath it.

“Is that a fucking trap door?” Marcus asked with a grunt as he glanced down and pushed the rock slab to the side.

“Yeah, it fucking is.” Bending down to open it, Marcus stopped you.

“Wait a second, Jersey girl. We don’t want to just go rushing down there.” He called the officer over for a quick chat, asking him to find the manager and see if anyone knew anything about where the trapdoor led.

Minutes later, the manager and resort engineer joined the group. No one knew a damn thing about what they found. It wasn’t depicted on the as-built drawings or any other schematics the engineer had on file. That did not bode well. Turning to the officer, you asked him to call for back up.

“We’ll head down to scope it out. Come down once backup gets here. In the meantime, please keep the guests away from this area,” Marcus directed the officer and manager before turning to you. “Ready, Jersey girl?”

Pulling your service weapon from its holster, you nodded confidently. “With you at my side, I’m ready for anything.”

Marcus flashed that boyish grin before wrenching the trapdoor open. As suspected, narrow steps carved into the stone descended down into darkness. Before Marcus could ask for one, the facility engineer handed him a flashlight.

Stepping carefully down the steps with the flashlight held high in one hand and his service weapon in the other, Marcus descended into the dark unknown with you right on his heels. At the bottom, a pathway led through more rock, dim light visible in the distance. You reach out while walking along the pathway to find the rock is surprisingly warm.

“I expected it to be cool to the touch,” you murmured, not wanting to make too much noise in case someone or something waited in the shadows.

“Hmm?”

“The walls,” you pointed when Marcus turned around. “They’re warm.”

Directing the beam of light in the direction you pointed, Marcus touched the back of his hand to the wall and looked back at you with a questioning brow. “How?”

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrugged.

“Latent heat from the surface?” he took a guess.

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re below ground deep enough that it shouldn’t be this warm.”

Marcus continued on down the path, the rock walls growing warmer the farther you progressed. Finally, you turned a corner into a dimly lit chamber, the air filled with oppressive heat making it hard to breathe. You both scanned the room for threats, finding none. The chamber was oddly free of spider webs or bugs or people, aside from the two of you, but a pool of water bubbled inside a ring in the stone floor. Above the pool, an abnormally large, fiery opal appeared to float in the air, the glow from it the only source of light in the chamber aside from the flashlight in Marcus’ hand.

“What the fuck?” you questioned, confused as all hell why the gem just floated in air. “I’m getting some real X-Files type vibes and I DO NOT like it.”

Marcus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips even though he was just as confused as you. “This must be the Flame of Quetzalcoatl.”

“Ya think?” Your nerves made you snarky, a trait Marcus found profoundly adorable and endearing.

Stepping closer to the artifact, Marcus shielded his eyes from the fiery glow. He reached out with one long finger, nearly touching the object when the grinding sound of rock against rock reverberated through the chamber. Jerking back instinctually, both you and Marcus drew your pistols on the sudden intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?” you blurted at the man, your nerves shot to shit, your FBI training the only thing holding you together at that point.

Wild-haired, with oddly composed attire, the man practically vibrated with energy, a glint of insanity in his eerily green eyes. Under one arm, he carried another landscape painting, likely just stolen from another gallery. As if by magic or something equally befitting the utterly odd nature of this entire case, the other stolen paintings appeared, strategically placed along the rock walls rounding the chamber.

“I really don’t like this, Marcus,” you said through gritted teeth. His concerned gaze met yours briefly. “Me either, Jersey.”

It happened, as these things tend to do, suddenly and unexpectedly. The man lunged forward, dropping the painting without thought, and reached a trembling, emaciated hand toward the artifact. Marcus matched the man’s movement, reaching for him rather than the floating, glowing gem. In the process, a glass pedestal you didn’t even know was there, nearly invisible but surely the reason the artifact appeared to be floating in air, toppled over, sending the artifact flying.

You watched, awestruck and frozen in shock, as Marcus tackled the crazy man to the hard ground and the artifact shattered against the rock wall, simultaneously. Almost immediately, the temperature plunged until a damp coolness filled the formerly stuffy chamber, and the man shrieked in despair.

“No! No! No! You’ve ruined everything!” The man continued screeching. Moments later, TCPD officers rushed into the stone room, a few assisting Marcus with securing the thief in cuffs.

Among the backup that just arrived, the police chief stepped up to your side as you gave Marcus a hand in getting back on his feet. “Strangest thing,” the thick-bearded, squat man in uniform said, “the temperature dropped at least twenty-five degrees out of nowhere, just as we started making our way down here. Am I to believe it had something to do with whatever happened down here?”

You and Marcus shared a look before shrugging at the police chief. “I have no clue what even happened down here,” Marcus admitted. Tilting his chin in the crazy man’s direction, he added, “Your boys will bring him in for questioning? We’d like a shot at him, too.”

“Of course. We’ll get him processed. Come by the station whenever you’re finished up here.” The chief followed the officers escorting the man from the chamber, leaving behind a forensics team to gather evidence.

Standing above the shattered artifact, you sighed. “How the hell do I write this up in a report?”

“Very carefully and creatively,” Marcus replied with a smirk.

The interrogation didn’t take long, the man caving like a deck of cards in the wind. His name was Edmund Fawkes, a local starving artist driven mad by the excessive heat. Already obsessed with ancient mythology and local lore, he discovered the hidden chamber containing Quetzalcoatl’s Flame and, seeking the power and prosperity described in the legends, decided to take possession of it by appeasing the ancient god with landscape paintings.

It didn’t work, clearly, but Edmund was relentless in his insanity, continuing his thievery until you and Marcus caught him.

None of it made sense and there were so many things that could be attributed to entirely coincidental circumstances that you didn’t really care how the pieces fit together. The thief had been caught, the paintings returned to the appropriate galleries largely undamaged, and the town was no longer in the clutches of a deadly heat wave. That was all that really mattered.  

On your way out of the police station, the case solved as far as the bureau was concerned, you turned to Marcus. “How long are you sticking around?”

Gazing at you with those chocolate puppy eyes, his lips twitched into a grin. “I have several weeks of PTO saved up. Figured I’d use some of that. Maybe all of it if I have a reason to.”

You grinned back at him. “I’m sure we could find a reason for that.”

An hour later, the sun dipping past the desert horizon, you found yourselves naked and neck deep in the soothing mineral water of a private hot springs pool. Given that business was completed, you checked out of the hotel the bureau set you both up in and reserved a room at the best resort in town for a couple days of relaxation.

“I’m going to miss this odd little town, especially Harry and his dingy pub,” Marcus said, pulling you closed to his side as you soaked in the soothing water.

“Me, too. I’m going to miss you most, though. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, both professionally and otherwise,” you admitted, leaning your head against his bare shoulder.

Marcus stilled for a moment before tightening his hold on you. “Why don’t you come back to DC with me?”

“What?” Your head tilted back to meet his eyes.

“You said you put in for a transfer back to the east coast, right?” You nodded and he continued. “Well, come back with me and we’ll have that transfer fast tracked. I’m certain there’s a position for you in DC. We won’t be on the same team, but that’s probably a good thing.”

You giggled at the boyish grin he flashed you. “If you’re sure, I’m game. I just don’t want you to feel like we’re rushing into anything.”

“Pssh, rushing, smushing. I’ve waited long enough to find someone like you. Now that I have, I’m not letting you go,” Marcus insisted. Gesturing between you, he added, “I mean it. There’s something amazing here, I know it. We can leave in a few days, spend a week or two exploring the city and each other before getting back to work.”

At a loss for a worthy response, you pressed your lips against his. The soft kiss quickly turned heated as you spun, straddling his lap, with your hands gripping the stone edge of the pool. Marcus ran his fingertips down the slick skin of your bare back as you squirmed into place, his cock swelling to life at the feel of you above, against, around him.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to ride you yet,” you murmured against his lips, grinding your bare pussy down on him.

“Now’s your chance, Jersey girl,” Marcus gasped through a moan. “Take me and use me, baby.”

Overheated despite the contrasting bite of cool air on your damp skin and warm water engulfing half your body, you eased yourself down onto his cock. You’d never get used to the exquisite stretch as he split you open. Drawing out the anticipation, you slid down his length with agonizing slowness, eliciting delicious whines from Marcus.

“Don’t torture me, baby. Please,” he begged to no avail. Peppering his handsome face with kisses, you kept the pace slow and torturous until he writhed beneath you.

At last, you took his full length inside you and started to move, bouncing eagerly on his cock with your head thrown back in pleasure. Marcus’ eyes stared at your breasts, bobbing along the water line and glistening from splashes of the mineral water as you moved on him. Mesmerized, he could look nowhere else, and his fingers shifted to pluck at the hardened peaks of your nipples.

The air temperature continued to drop as night set in, steam rising up from the warm water of the pool, dancing along your skin in beautiful swirls of water vapor. The clear, starry sky the perfect backdrop to your love making – for that’s what it was now, so much more than sex this time as you gave your whole self over to this wonderful, unexpected man who changed your life in a matter of days.

Overwhelmed with feelings, you keened as his cock nudged at all the right placing, your clit stimulated by grinding on his lap. “Fuck, Marcus. I’m gonna cum.”

Marcus thrust his hips upward at that statement, eager to drive you straight over the cliff into that beautiful abyss. “Do it, baby. Come all over my cock, my beautiful Jersey girl.”

Always good at following instructions, you did just that. Your eyelids slipped closed as you spasmed around him, head thrown back in ecstasy, his name falling like a prayer from your lips.

“That’s it, just like that,” Marcus crooned, pressing soothing kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re strangling my cock, baby. Gonna make me come too, sexy girl.”

A few more erratic thrusts upward and Marcus came with a fury, cock pulsing with rope after rope of his spend deep inside you. Breathless and exhausted, you clung to each other until shivers settled in from the plunging temperature.

“Let’s get inside, my Jersey girl. We’ll clean up, climb under the covers, and cuddle while we make plans for the future.”

fin

[aradassbadass]

cellular sentiment| ceedee lamb

in which you and ceedee have been friends for a while but you only talk on the phone but he surprises you after his game.

you jolted awake as you felt the vibrations on your face.

“huh?” you say eyes still shut.

“damn what took you so long to answer i called you thirty eleven times.” the voice on the other side made you smile.

“hush cedarian, i was sleep.” you mumble turning over eyes still closed.

“thats all you do is sleep.” he says and you roll your eyes- or try to at least.

“what do you want man, why you call me this late?” you ask trying to sound annoyed.

he just laughs, “its 6 oclock in the evening almost 7, aint shit late about it, and i thought you said you was gone watch our game today just lies.” he says teasingly.

“hush yall ass. probably lost anyways, you know you sorry.” you laugh.

“shii, i dont know who you talking to but im far from sorry.” he sasses back. you cant help but laugh. “nah, but forreal though i was just trying to see what you had planned tonight.”

you finally open your eyes and the light from him dimly illuminates your face and he glances down.

“you so beautiful.” he smiles and you blush immediately dropping the phone.

“oh my God please stop.”

“im forreal- you know i always tell you that.”he says and you roll your eyes blushing even harder.

“thank you but anyways im not finna do nothing hell i may get up and cook but then its right back in bed for me- i got work tomorrow. i already got my gown on and everything.”

“which one? better be the one i got you.” he says.

“and is, what should i cook? steak and potatoes or shrimp fried rice?” you ask getting up and going to the kitchen.

it felt good, natural even. it had become a little routine that you both felt comfortable in. he would call youd answer, yall would chat about anything-everything under the sun and inevitably your fall asleep on him but he would never hang up.

how you managed to become friends was purely some twisted sort of luck if you could even call it that. after your mom passed he was the one that got her number and when the messages started sending in blue instead of green you werent quick to notice, so when you had a particularly shitty day and texted her number

‘mama, i wish you were here. i need you now more than ever.’

and received a message reading

‘im sorry but i think you have the wrong number. it will be okay though’

you almost broke down. luckily he was nice enough and allowed you to vent and the rest was history. a friendship blossomed even though it was only cellular.

“if you dont prop me up so i can see.” he griped.

“omg youre so needy.” you sigh propping him-the phone- up.

he laughs, “whatever hmmm i think shrimp.”

“hmmm i think not.” you say grabbing the steak.

“bro what the hell, why you even ask then.” he says smacking his lips.

“cause i can.” you say and you just know he’s rolling his eyes.

“if you say so, but ima hit you back, this my momma calling me.”

“ok be safe.”

“i will, talk to you later.” and the phone clicks.

you hum as you begin to season the two sirloins, quickly reaching over to turn on the stove.

its crazy how life works. your just a history teacher at a small high school in your area and one of your best friends is the biggest player in your state.

“who would have thought”you mumble to yourself thinking ahout when you finally realized who he was.

one of your students had worn a jersey with his last name on it and you found it a bit peculiar, so you texted him.

‘u have a cousin or something in the nfl? one of these my kids got on a jersey w yo last name’

‘😂is u being fr rn’

‘wym?’

‘omg you is lmaooooooo 😭😩 go ask him who jersey he got on’

‘wtf js tell me’

and he left you on read

you put your phone down and huffed.

“hey garret, who’s jersey do you have on?”

“ceedee lamb, excuse my language miss but he cold as hell.” and as soon as the name came out of his mouth your stomach dropped.

“o-oh ok. it-its nice.” you barely stammer out before picking up your phone.

‘YOU PLAY FUCKIN FOOTBALL WTF’

‘😭😭😭😭😂’

‘omfggg ts crazyyyy& u aint tell nb shi’

needless to say he got an earful that night when you two did finally get on the phone.

you flip the steaks over on the cast iron skillet allowing it to sear then place the potatoes on a baking sheet and toss them in the oven.

you grab your phone and go to see where cee is, but you notice his location is off.

‘where tf u at & why that damn lo off?’

he immediately reads it but you see no text bubble.

‘wowwww read ight bet.’

then you throw down your phone and almost instantly its a light knock on your door.

confusion washes over you as you furrow your brows together.

“who is it ?” you call getting on your tip toes to see out of the peephole but its just dark.

you sigh and unlock the door opening it only enough to peek out and low and behold its cedarian with a big goofy smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

this is ch1 of a fic im gonna be posting on wattpad lmk what yall think. i love ceedee he is so cute omf i just have all the feels.

[violettavonviolet]

Tim Drake fic recs

All fics are finished and absolutely amazing. The word count goes up as you scroll. This rec list is entirely platonic but do check tags for triggers!

Janet Drake Is Alive And That's Officially Everyone's Problem (But Mostly Tim.)

Tht0neGal666

Summary:

They still hadn't looked at each other. It was starting to get a bit creepy.

"So you are satisfied, living like this?" She asked, with the slightest twitch of displeasure.

Quickly, Drake's eyes flashed over each of them, and he nodded. "Enough."

"Are you necessary?" She followed immediately, something dangerous in her tone, and there was the quickest flash of fear in Drake's eyes.

"Enough." He repeated firmly. She scoffed, but didn't say anything.

1.5k Janet centric teen

Wash Your Mouth Out

fishfingersandjellybabies

Summary:

Tim shows his worry in a different way than most.

2.3k tim & damian teen

Shutter Bug

Heartslogos

How could i not notice the stutter? Jason snorts.

3k gen batfam

A Worthy Father

Crowlows19

Summary:

Jack Drake forces his son to give up being Robin. He could never have predicted the consequences of parenting a Robin-less Tim Drake. He may never sleep again and Bruce Wayne certainly has no sympathy for him.

3.7k teen Jack & Tim

A Recipe for Disaster

Calypso_Rambles, JUBE514

Summary:

“You’re crying.”

That’s the Red Hood, standing in the doorway into the hall, a hulking figure filling the frame, head tilted in question and hands on a gun that’s pointed to the floor. He looks uncertain, head tilted to the side like a goddamn bird.

“What?” Tim asks, because Tim is confused– he knows this is Jason Todd, kinda hard to miss with the red helmet and when the dude tried to blow up Dick and Bruce about a week earlier in the same outfit, but what the actual fuck is he doing in San Francisco–

“You’re crying.” Red Hood repeats, forgoing a one handed grip on his weapon to gesture to his– well– his everything.

Tim moves his hand up to his cheeks because he is definitely not crying over something as stupid as his dinn–

Huh. 

Okay. 

Maybe he is.

✦✦✦

Tim and Jason make food, drink and talk about parents. Jason was meant to kill this kid, but plans have a way of being derailed.

6k teen Tim & Jason

Doctor, Except for Everything, I Am Perfectly Fine

Mouse_in_this_house

Summary:

Alfred and Bruce decide they have to update the kids' medical information. If the others aren't a fan if this, then Tim is even worse. Guess who's missing his spleen?

6.9k gen humor

A Cure For Starvation

PrinceJakeFireCake

Summary:

Tim has always had problems with people touching him. 

Jason also has problems with people touching him.

They try to work it out.

7k gen jason& tim

Little bird

Ididloveyou_once

Summary:

Tim knew he was fucked if only for the way that his brain was chanting Jason, like a litany. So he definitely didn’t need to hear the cold, mechanical chuckle or the chillingly delighted 'lucky me' to know that this was not good.

He took a second to look down at his coffee mournfully. 

Then, he threw it at Hood’s helmet and bolted down the Tower corridor. 

Or: Tim is supposed to be at Gotham Academy for a parent-teacher conference. Hood has other plans (Titans Tower AU).

8k teen Jason & Tim

lost treasure

adelfie

Summary:

“Dad, I don’t want to do this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want. This is why we brought you here,” Jack hisses. “So we can get paid.”

Or: When a cozy night out with his parents turns into a night of captivity and torture, Tim is forced to seek protection from his worst nightmare - the Red Hood.

9k angst teen Jason & Tim

wither on the shore

Scarlet_Ribbons

Summary:

“Replacement.”

Tim freezes, gaze still locked on Jack’s prone, silent form sprawled out on the floor, and pulls the phone back to look at the number.

It’s kind of funny, he thinks hazily. Of course he would accidentally kill his dad and then mistakenly call Jason, of all people.

9.6k angst teen Jason&Tim

Boom, Boom, Pow!

LilaVaporizer9000

Summary:

If anyone asked the Batfamily which Robin had the funniest ’joining the family’ story? Well, everyone would start with, “Well it seemed like Jason had the spot taken for good after having the audacity to try and jack the Batmobile’s tires and hit Bruce with his tire iron.” And then they’d say, “But then tiny Tim decided to try and steal the whole thing.”

Or: When Tim is 11 he figures it’s not hurting anyone if he. Ya know. Takes a picture in the Batmobile. But then the power goes to his head and all of a sudden he’s hacking the Batmobile and tearing through Gotham on a rescue mission.

11k feral tim teen

Street Lights would Guide you (and flicker in my shadow)

StarryKitty013

There was a lonely kid, hanging upside down off a fire escape looking at the world through a long range camera lens. 

13k angst teen

buried hope

paperxcrowns

Summary:

“You’re a sorry sight,” Jason says, and forces a water bottle in Tim’s shaking hand.

“Had a bad day,” Tim gasps, shakily trying to twist the cap off.

Jason snorts. “I’d say.”

Tim’s too busy draining the bottle to glare at Jason.

OR

tim spends another birthday alone and makes bad decisions.

11k teen angst

Into the Deep Dark Night

siren_of_the_ocean

Summary:

Timothy Jackson Drake drowns in Gotham Bay with not a bang, but a whimper. 

Luckily...or not, Gotham isn't quite ready to give him up yet. 

“Spirits of children and women drowned, my child. They live in the ponds that glisten like tar. The Rusalka."

14.8k angst teen

I’m Pretty Sure Tim Steals Clothes: An Elaboration In The Form Of A Long Fic

PrinceJakeFireCake

Summary:

Basically what it says on the tin.

““How many shirts do you have of Superboy’s, again?” Jason asked, his brows furrowed.

“I stole fifteen before Clark told me to stop,” Tim said. “I did not stop. Those aren’t even all of them, I have more upstairs.”

“How many Superboy shirts is too many Superboy shirts?” Jason pondered.

“I’m approaching the thousands,” Tim admitted. “I’m admittedly not the best person to pose such a question to.””

15k core four angst gen

Prince and Pauper

Vamillepudding

Summary:

When Tim first proposes his plan, Jason calls him batshit insane.

"Why?" Tim asks stubbornly. “It’ll be a win-win situation – I get a new life without some guardian tying me down, and you get a new life where you can eat food every day and live in a big house. You’ll probably have to go to school, but that’s the only downside I can think of. That, and pretending to be me, of course."

*

In the wake of Jack and Janet Drake's untimely death, Bruce sets out to search for their missing son, determined to adopt him. After a long, arduous search, he finally brings home a new addition to his family.

He fails to realise that the new kid living in Wayne Manor is not Tim Drake.

16k Tim & Jason & dick gen

You put Tim in box? You BOX him like dog?? Oh! Jail for Jason! Jail for one thousand years~

antebunny

Summary:

Jason tries a kinder method of getting Tim to give up Robin. It goes even worse than his original idea.

17k jason & tim teen

falling without caution

coffeecrowns

Summary:

Jason is twenty, decidedly less into murder, trying to avoid developing agoraphobia, and putting together some pieces into a life. 

Tim is sixteen, riding the edge of burnout, and in a show of his truly baffling survival instincts, decides Jason is friend shaped.

17k child soldiers angst mature

 Grin and Bear It (I got blood on your carpet)

Alia_JuneBug

Summary:

When Jack Drake’s business trip gets canceled, he is forced to stay at home while the legal kinks get worked out. He’s not used to having a teenager underfoot, so it’s only rational that he’s a little snappish around Tim. At least, that’s what Tim tells himself each time his dad’s idea of discipline gets harsher.

Bruce had told him to take a break from Robin in order to spend some time at home with his dad, and Tim can’t say no to that. He knows Bruce is probably glad to be rid of him for a short while.

And he can handle discipline. This is a Tim Drake problem, not a Robin problem anyway. There’s no need for Bruce to know anything.

Things get a little muddled when an injured Jason Todd crawls through his bedroom window.

18k not rated

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne

theskeptileptic

Summary:

Tim is an independent, clever, and super mature eleven-year-old. Unfortunately, his dopey neighbor, Bruce, can’t seem to understand that.

When he decides to disappear on a “solo camping trip” and run away to Canada, he figures it’s the perfect plan that will make everybody happy. He didn’t expect the Waynes would tag along with him and ruin everything.

A six-chaptered tale filled with identity shenanigans, s’mores, soon-to-be-brothers, and a kid who is in desperate need of a new family.

25k gen

Dangerous and Noble Things

destiny919

Summary:

Timothy Drake was abducted by Ra's al Ghul.

Four years later, somebody notices.

45k angst

Let's be Brothers

Honeybuttons

Summary:

Jason was not the biggest fan of Tim, but it was clear that he didn’t hate him anymore. And if he didn’t hate him anymore, Tim could get him to love him. Right?

By his own carefully determined calculations, Tim could achieve this goal in 90 days or less. Day one started tomorrow morning with a surprise breakfast donut and an invitation to go watch the birds.

Or that time Tim was determined to be brothers and Jason was determined to be resistant and confused.

46k tim & jason gen humor 

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map

ebjameston

Summary:

CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us

Red Hood: He's fine where he is

CPS: He's a minor

Hood: Timbo, you a minor?

Tim: Can't prove it

CPS: I mean, I can. There are records –

Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records

+++

A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. 

It's a weird day for Theo.

51k humor teen

Into the Brighter Night

shoalsea

Summary:

When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. 

Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. 

Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

160k core four gen

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 3: The Lucky Day

Warning: This chapter contains mentions of an eating disorder and depression, please read with caution as topics may be triggering.

a/n: Alexa, play Daddy's Home <3 Anywho, OC's spiralling summer was inspired by Bella's montage of passing seasons in Twilight ... I'm sorry, but I need to preface that OC will be going through it this whole season, I have already cried thrice. Also, a side question, can you guys actually play the songs I post for these chapters? Meaning, does Tumblr let yall do that or am I trippin? Because I truly think they add a lot to the overall experience. If not, please let me know, then maybe I'll just turn them into a Spotify playlist.

Sleep has become my escape. A temporary withdrawal from reality in which I live to remember everything Jungkook has forgotten. Sleeping through each passing day, I know that at least in my dreams we are still together. In my dreams, I will always find my way back to you, Koo. Even if you don’t remember it, the moon knows that we were once in love. It hears my helpless cries at night and feels every atom of my being that misses you, fearing the idea of us becoming strangers once again. 

It’s as if my happiness was erased with his departure. Holding my hand through each step of the way, he showed me the beauty in life and ended up being the one to take it all away when my fearing heart failed to reciprocate the painfully obvious love tethered between us. Now, my life is dull and pointless. How can I love someone else when every night I dream of you, Koo?

Swallowing pills to mute the sound of my heart beating for his barest touch, I’ve become lost in my own mind, haunted by everlasting thoughts. Although I thought I would be able to at least pretend to be happy for the sake of my family, it’s all become too much. Thus, it was only a matter of days, before my deteriorating behaviour sparked concern in my parents, fueling tension in the air we shared. It all started with fatigue, which then transformed into chronic sleep and in the end began to affect my eating habits. Feeling nauseous from the mere thought of food, I’ve grown to dissociate myself from it. I was hungry, but I couldn’t eat. And, as my hope slowly diminished, so did the number on the scale. 

“Mira, you have to eat,” my mom’s voice echoes in my ear as my eyes fixate on the plate of steamed broccoli in front of me. 

“I’m not hungry, I told you,” I sigh, swallowing down the lie with some water. 

“Mira, honey, please talk to us. What’s wrong?” my dad asks softly, placing his hand on top of mine. Hearing the trembles in his words, my eyes swell with tears before I shake myself out of it.

“I’m fine … just feeling a bit under the weather,”

“The sun has been at its highest peak this whole time, what’s seasonal about this?” my mom tries to remain composed as she shifts her chair closer to mine. 

“Talk to me, honey. What’s gotten into you? You were so excited to come back,” her hands caress my tangled hair as I nibble on the dead skin on my lip. 

“Mira, you’ve been silent since you came, and now you won’t even eat. Your mom and I can’t bear to see you like this,” 

“Come back home, Miraya. We can find another university here,”

“No. It’s not that. I’m fine, I swear. I just … I just need this break to end already, so I can focus on my studies again. That’ll keep my mind occupied,” I whisper softly, attempting to fake a smile as my empty gaze searches their scattering eyes. Recently, that's how most of our conversations ended. With helpless promises feeding my delusions. However, with each passing day, I come to realise that promises are nothing more than sweet lies. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have to find excuses for the aching feeling in my heart, but rather, melt in the overflowing passion of Jungkook’s burning love. 

Excusing myself, I throw away the cold plate of food and head back to my room, one which was once filled with laughter and a carefree sense of ambition. The same walls that watched me cry out of happiness upon receiving my acceptance letter just a few months ago are the ones that now echo my pathetic cries for help. Every inch of this room has become cold and numb, and I’m afraid that there is no more warmth in me that could fix this. 

Crouched in a fetal position as my body shivers under the floral duvet my mom gifted me as a welcome present, I dial Jimin’s phone number. It has been weeks since he moved back to Busan, but I have yet to receive any updates from him about Jungkook. In hindsight, maybe, it’s for the best, but if silence is the thing that'll save me then why do I still hold onto the smallest glimpse of hope for us? Even if it means walking across a minefield of rejected possibilities that would ultimately send me into a never-ending spiral, why do I still care?

“How is he?” I ask with hesitation. 

“Different. He’s different.” Jimin replies softly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, he seems distant. Which is fair, I guess. But, he doesn’t quite seem to remember me,” 

“At all?” my voice shakes as I choke up. 

“Well no, he is still able to recover our memories from when we were kids, but recent events are very blurry,” Jimin goes on. 

I, was recent to Jungkook. We, were recent to him. Four months, that's how long I've known Koo, but I’ve been missing him for the last seven. Each day I daydream, reminiscing our memories, feeling the void in my heart knowing that I’ve been without him longer than I’ve been with him. Maybe, Mrs. Jeon was right. I would be lying if I said that a little part of me didn’t think that the reason for her ultimatum was purely based on a simple dislike of me. You know? Like, she didn’t see me as a good match for her son? Because, even then, her disapproval of my character would have been an easier pill to swallow than knowing that now, in Koo’s empty eyes, I’m no longer his Peaches, but a stranger. God, it hurts to even say it out loud let alone accept it. I can’t accept it, but I have to now, don’t I?

“Please take care of him for me Jiminah,” I manage to let out, wiping the tears rolling down my face. 

“I will Mira, don’t worry. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

“See you,” I end the call, throwing my phone across the bed, my puffy eyes irritated by the brightness. 

That night was especially hard. Although my body was desperately wanting to succumb to the exhaustion, my mind wouldn't shut up. It kept replaying our memories, reminding me of the things I should have said. The words Koo never heard, but deserved to.

--

Hugging my mom, her trembling hands tighten their hold on my sweater as I take in the smell of her perfume for the last time. I missed her a lot, and the guilt of putting my parents through that torture has been eating me alive this whole summer. All they wanted was to see their daughter smile and I failed to fulfill even the simplest of their wishes. If only they knew how much I wanted to smile again. 

“Mira, I’m telling you again, we can find another university here,” my mom says with teary eyes. 

“Just say yes, and we’ll deal with all the transfer stuff, honey,” my dad joins, caressing my palms, as I let out a soft chuckle before shaking my head no. 

“That’s not fair. You guys didn’t raise a quitter,” I manage to let out, feeling my throat tighten from the build-up of emotions. 

“You’re right, we didn’t. But, even the strongest soldier needs a shoulder to cry on. Remember that we are and always will be by your side, Miraya,”

“Call us as soon as you land, love,” 

Passing through the airport security, I wave to my family my last goodbyes before heading to my gate. Am I excited to come back to Seoul? I don’t really have a choice, do I? That God-awful Nursing degree won’t finish itself, so yeah, I kind of have to go back. But, I know that school isn’t the only thing pulling me back. I know I can’t, but I still wish to see Jungkook, even from afar, it doesn’t matter. All I want now is to know that he is doing well.  

I’m not sure how, but as soon as my head rested against the seat my body shut down, falling into a much-needed sleep. I probably would have slept through the whole 12-hour flight if it weren’t for the bright beams of sunlight penetrating through my heavy eyelids. Taking a glimpse out the airplane window, I no longer saw snowy mountains but rather blossoming fields of greenery scattered within the busy cities of Korea. And, as the captain went through his ending speech, a flood of international students lined up near the exit, eager to get back into their previously established routine. It’s funny because I was sitting next to one of my cohort members from last semester, but we were both too tired to even realise. 

Nonetheless, putting my passport and ticket back into my carry on, I rolled my luggage down the escalator before a familiar voice called out my name. Searching the crowd of strangers filled with overwhelmed emotions, my eyes stop at a particular boxy smile. 

“Long time no see, Flip-flops!” Tae shouted across the hall, before waving me down to where he was standing with Jiah and Jimin who were just as excited about my arrival. Feeling my eyes swell with tears, I couldn’t help but laugh at his cute, little dance as he pulled me into a warm hug. 

“Tae, I’m certain you just don’t know my actual name,” I say with a grin, looking up at his sparkling eyes. 

“Of course, I do MJ,” he grins, rubbing the top of my head. Ha ha ha, isn’t he just a comedian? For context, my government name is Mira Jean … hence, the birth of MJ. 

“That’s enough, let us hug her too,” Jiah chuckles, opening her arms as my body virtually melts into her embrace. With tears rolling down our faces, her grip tightens around my form as she lets out a sudden gasp. 

“Mira! My goodness, why are you so small?” she asks with a concerned tone, her wide eyes scanning my body. Although, I always managed to maintain my normal weight, I guess, not eating properly for 3 months left its mark on the way I looked. As the numbers on the scale decreased, I became more and more fixated on the protrusion of my bones. I hated the feeling, but, I also couldn’t stop. Because I couldn’t get myself to eat, I relied on baggy clothes to create an illusion that would satisfy people’s perception of me. Unfortunately, I failed to fool Jiah as she saw right through the act. 

“I just stopped eating so much junk food, I’m fine. Trust me, this is a good thing Jiah, now I can finally fit into my favourite pair of jeans,” I try to laugh the pain away, caressing her hands as her furrowed eyebrows slowly release their tension. She isn’t convinced but also, doesn’t want to create a scene in public. I know that follow-up questions will be brought up along the way, but for now, my attention is focused on looking for someone who I know isn’t there. It’s silly, but before spotting Tae, a little part of me hoped to see Jungkook. To witness his sparkling doe eyes and bunny teeth, once again, like the good old times.  

“Okay, it’s settled, we are all going to my favourite Korean BBQ place,” Jimin exclaims, giving me a quick wink before grabbing both of the luggage out of my hands, and handing one to Tae. And, as Jiah intertwines her hands with mine, we exchange soft smiles exiting the airport as my skin finally feels the fresh, humid air of Seoul. Stopping mid-walk, I let out a deep sigh of relief. I hated every second of my summer, it was nothing short of pure torture but, at least, it too passed. 

“You’re good?” Tae whispers, softened gaze focused on my flushed cheeks. 

“Yeah,” I say softly, taking another deep breath as his arm caresses my shoulder. 

“He’s fine, Mira,” his words pierce through my ears as I unconsciously shoot him an alarming look. 

“You’ve heard from him?” I rush my words, anticipating his answer as my chest heaves up. 

“No, but I can feel your pain,” his tone is quieter now, eyes still searching mine. 

“I’m fine, Tae,” I mumble under my breath, lowering my head in fear of breaking down in front of them. 

“Just know that I’m always here for you, okay?” he says, pressing a soft kiss on my head before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. If only he could hear the way I’m screaming inside. The way I’m calling out for help. For someone to find hope in my hopeless state of mind. If only he knew how much I miss Jungkook. 

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Following the tradition, I will be hosting my annual house party before school beats all of our asses,” Jimin chuckles, caressing Jiah’s hand as their eyes focus on each other. Forcing down some dumpling soup into my system, I feel nauseous, but can’t risk growing Jiah's suspicion more, so I attempt to eat as little as possible without her noticing. 

“So, Mira, please come. Jungkook will be there as well,” Jimin continues with a soft smile which slowly fades upon noticing my gaze drop. Letting go of my spoon, my fingernails dig into my cold palms, as I’m back at square one. How am I supposed to face him when I can’t even handle the mere mention of his name? It’s not fair. None of them know about Mrs. Jeon’s ultimatum, and I fear that I can’t just simply tell them. So, I gulp down the pain and manage to put on another act, one that I seem to have mastered over the summer. 

“Mira, you’re okay?” Jiah asks, gently rubbing my forearm. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit jet-lagged. Sure, of course, I’ll come,” I reply with a reassuring smile, before looking at Tae. I recognize the sadness in his eyes because I see it in my own every passing minute. But, I can’t let him in. I can’t betray Mrs. Jeon’s trust, again. Even if it means that I have to betray my own heart.

--

We’ve been walking around the mall for probably 3 hours now and Jiah has yet to find something with that wow factor, meanwhile, I have already found 4 of the nearest exits. The party is set for tonight, and although I have already agreed to come, I can’t get myself to actually face the consequences. I can’t go, what was I thinking. What? Did I think everything was going to be fine once Jungkook saw me? Mira, he doesn’t remember you. 

“Jiah, you know, I really don’t think I should go tonight?” I say, slowly walking in circles as she eyes another mini dress. 

“What? Why?” she stutters, going through racks of possible options. 

“I’m just not feeling well,” I lie, fiddling with my fingers to calm down the nerves. 

“Mira, is something wrong?” Jiah stops what she’s doing before walking closer to my anxious self. 

“I’m fine, really,” I lie again. 

“You don’t look fine. You barely eat, barely sleep, barely talk to me,” she exclaims with a  tone firmer than before. 

“Then stop looking. Please, can everyone just leave me alone? I’m just tired, okay?” I burst, feeling everyone’s eyes on my distressed self. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. What do you need?” she says gently, reaching out her hands.  

“I just need space,” I whisper, crossing my arms in front of my burning chest. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some space. Please call me when you’re ready,” Jiah’s words cut deep as she walked out of the store, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The ones I’ve been trying to run away from this whole time. I can’t even get mad at her. She is only trying to help, but how can she when I keep shutting everyone out? It’s all my fault, I know. I just hope that this isn’t how it ends. I hope I don’t push everyone away, and someone sees right through the mask I put on. Because I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do or who to talk to.

Locking the door behind me I plop onto my bed before finally resting my heavy eyes. And, within minutes, I’m passed out again. I think, I've grown to become eternally tired, no matter how much I sleep, there is just no end to this fatigue. Moving restlessly, I pull the white cover over my shivering body before hearing my phone ring. 

“Ugh, what is it now?” I grunt, squinting from the screen brightness as a small gasp escapes my parted lips. It was 8 pm already. How is that possible? I swear, I just laid my head. But, no, apparently I’ve been asleep for the last 5 hours. 

“Hello?” I manage to let out. 

“Flip-flops? Where are you?” Tae screams through the loud music in the background. 

“Tae, I’m home. What happened?” 

“Mira hurry, Jiah is drunk. You need to come pick her up,” he exclaims with panic in his voice. 

“What? Where’s Jimin? Can he not drive her?” I stutter, lifting myself off of the bed before putting my hoodie back on. 

“You want him to drive under the influence? Of course, he is drunk too,” 

“Well, why can’t you drive them?” I whine, almost pleading. 

“Who said I wasn’t drunk either?” he chuckles, sending me a flying kiss through the phone. 

“Fine, I’ll be there in a bit. Keep an eye on Jiah,” I sigh before grabbing my keys and ID. 

Thankfully, Jimin’s place wasn’t that far from our dormitory so, the ride there was only 10-ish minutes. Nonetheless, I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. And, as the driver finally pulled up to the apartment complex I practically ran inside. Following the sound of loud music, I made my way through the crowd of people who clearly had a little too much fun, as the alcohol in their system could be detected from the next block. 

“Flip-flops!” Tae exclaimed with a big grin. Stopping in my tracks, my eyes diverted to Jiah, who was standing beside him with absolutely no sign of a hangover. In fact, she looked better than ever in her new mini-dress. 

“What? You lied?” I snap, eyebrows furrowing more and more with each step I take towards them. 

“How else was I supposed to get you to come?” Tae chuckles, trying to rub my head before I push his hand away. 

“Get off me,” my tone is harsh as I lower my piercing gaze, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Oh! Mira, there you are,” I could hear Jimin’s voice getting closer before turning my flushed face. And with that, it felt like time stopped altogether. There was nothing and no one in the room except for him and I. Koo and I. Feeling my gaze soften, I choke up from the rush of emotions in my throat. 

“Hi, I’m Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a warm smile, reaching out his hand as if meeting me for the first time. Before replying, I take a moment to analyze his face. The one I dreamed about every night and the one that caused me so much pain. He looks the same, except, his eyes no longer sparkle like they used to. I guess, we got that in common. 

“Hi …I’m Mira,” I let out a soft smile, before reaching out my own hand. 

“Yah, Kook, you already know her, you guys were best friends,” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive me. I'm still trying to piece everything back together,” Koo says, covering his mouth before shutting his eyes from embarrassment. 

Feeling my throat tighten, I quickly excuse myself, before rushing out of the packed room towards the nearest fire escape. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but why does it feel like I’m going to pass out? It’s as if all the air was knocked out of my lungs. Feeling lightheaded I hold onto the railing and close my eyes for a moment. I can’t believe it. Koo, I saw you but you didn’t see me. You saw a stranger. And, suddenly, there I was, alone again, realizing that everything I feared had come true.

Regaining my composure, I decide to walk back to the party before my eyes are met with his. 

“Not a party animal, huh?” Jungkook grins, stopping in his tracks as his arm leans against the wall. 

“It’s my day off,” I let out a small chuckle, unable to keep his eye contact. 

“So … we were best friends?” he asks softly, hands fidgeting with the chains on his belt. 

“Yeah …” I nod slightly, nibbling on my lips. 

“It’s funny because I don’t remember anything from last year. I could barely recognize my own dad for a while. Jimin helped me a lot, he basically recalled sparknotes of my past for me,” he laughs. Oh, how I missed his laugh.  

“You really don’t remember anything?” I finally look up, searching his scattering eyes. 

“No, not one bit,” his muffled words are interrupted by the growling sound coming from my stomach, as I let out an awkward smile. 

“Oh, are you hungry?” he grins, bunny teeth on full display, as my gaze softens again. 

“No, no, no, I’m fine. I think I’m gonna head home now,” I shake my hands, zipping my hoodie before attempting to walk past him. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll drive. I’m starving as well,” Jungkook assures, gently pulling onto the fabric as my heart sinks to my feet.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I agreed. I couldn’t say no to Koo. Not, after all the sleepless nights I’ve spent missing his mere presence. And, as we entered the nearest restaurant, everything felt real. He felt real. Even if he couldn’t feel it, my heart was beating for the both of us. For our first hellos, last goodbyes and everything in between. Just for tonight, I wanted to pretend like nothing happened. 

“Oh, look, Mira, they have a special deal on shrimp dumplings, do you like them?” his voice, brings me back to reality as I mute the thoughts running through my head. 

“Yeah, my mom made them for me all the time when I was little,” I smile. 

“Then, I guess it’s your lucky day,” he chuckles with a satisfied grin, before calling one of the waiters. 

“I guess, it is,” I say softly, feeling my throat tighten as I struggle to swallow the lie. Searching his naive eyes my own swell with tears while my body shifts restlessly in the seat. Desperately wanting to cave into the emotions, my mind is haunted by the thoughts of Mrs. Jeon’s letter. And, as I close my eyes for a moment, all I can see are the painful reminders of our enforced distance. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. Yet, here we are, here you are, Koo. Live in the flesh, separated by a table and the forgotten story of our past. So close, yet so far that it physically hurts. To him, I’m just another piece of the puzzle that would fill the void in his memories. But, to me, he is the only piece that could make me whole again. 

Previous l Index l Next

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

A more normal ask this week I think

🧟

🔮🔮

⚡⚡⚡

🩸🩸🩸🩸

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

But because I'm a bit crazy about the prospect of these new ones

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

And I'm obsessed with Cranberry

🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺

So more normal in terms of most of the numbers perhaps but still a bit extensive either way sorry lol

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Hey!!! Love these pyramids of emojis I've been getting. Don't be sorry AT ALL! I love it.

Okay 3 for 🧟:

---

Buck leads Bobby out back behind the community center portion of the building. A utility shed with power access, padlocked, is where Buck keeps all his fishing net gear and other miscellaneous things. It’s also where he’s hidden the radio, signal booster, and laptop.

---

6 for 🔮:

---

There is complexity in her expression. Not the plain grief of someone who has just lost a husband; something more confused  than that. Something that makes Buck think, for whatever reason, of his sister. 

The other boy, an older teenager - Charles? - is scowling. He sneers when the priest says something kind about his father. This takes Buck by surprise.

---

9 for ⚡:

---

He never had one the first time. But he’s fairly certain you’re supposed to, one, be a bachelor. Which Eddie is not, technically. And two, not spend the night more or less attached to the person you’re marrying. Which Eddie did. 

And that’s exactly how Eddie wakes up. More or less attached to the actual bachelor in this situation. 

He’s laying sideways across a hotel bed, legs hanging off the side of the mattress. Buck is pretty much flopped on top of him.

---

12 for 🩸:

---

“Please forgive me, Maddie,” Buck whispers. 

Maddie exhales. “I feel like I should have known.”

“How could you have?” Buck asks.

“That 9-1-1 call, when you found him dead… I… It was horrible. I thought… I guess I thought a part of you sort of broke.”

Buck shrugs. “Maybe it did. I don’t know.”

---

15 for 🚨:

---

It all happens so fast. 

One day, life is the way it is. The next, it seems, the world is ending. Decisions have to be made. Systems have to change. Everyone has to stay home. Everyone, excluding first responders. Things still need responding to. 

For Eddie, it involves a hard choice. One he didn’t think he’d have to make. He’s spent the past nearly two months worried about dying. Mortality. Leaving his son orphaned and traumatized. Missing this beautiful life he’s somehow stumbled upon. And, well, he could. Nobody knows anything about this illness yet.

---

27 for 🔼:

---

If he thought he was confused before, Eddie is practically reintroduced to the concept of confusion. He has no understanding of what is happening or why. He feels dropped in a train station in an unfamiliar country, where no one speaks the languages he speaks, and the writing might as well be cuneiform. He has no idea why Shannon would do this to him. He has no idea why she would lie. He is so deeply angry. He is so deeply worried. He loves her. He hates her. He just wants her to be alright. 

She is alright. Although, it takes hours for them to get official word on this. 

Shannon’s shoulder is dislocated. They reset it; a painful process for her. That will heal, though they worry with the severity, it may require some physical therapy. 

Her ankle isn’t broken. They think badly bruised and sprained. She’ll be off her feet for a little bit. 

She’s banged up pretty badly from her fall. Lots of wounds that require cleaning. Bruising, to be sure. But no head or spinal injuries. This is the main thing. This is the best piece of luck. Everything else will heal. 

Then there’s the other matter. The one that feels like a cold grip around Eddie’s heart. 

---

27 for 💐

---

"Of course not, May. You’re always welcome. More than welcome.”

So she keeps coming.

One day, Hen and Buck approach her. May isn’t sure if Bobby put them up to it, or if there’s simply not a lot going on. Eddie, Chimney, and Ravi seem otherwise occupied with fire station chores, so she’s not sure how they got off easy. Either way, Buck takes a seat in the chair adjacent from her, and Hen sits beside her, and they both strike up a conversation. As it turns out, the exact sort of conversation she was looking to avoid. 

“Alright, May,” Hen sighs. “What’s really going on?”

“What do you mean?” She asks, not looking up from her books. “I’m just studying.”

Hen clicks her tongue off the back of her teeth, unimpressed with May’s answer. 

“Speaking as someone who tried to study for med school exams on this same couch? That’s bull.”

May scoffs. “Hey!”

“It’s kind of loud,” Buck backs Hen up. 

“The alarm. The echoes. The constant activity.” Hen says. She points at Buck. “This one talking.”

“I’m kind of loud,” Buck agrees.

---

39 for 🦮:

---

Buck is actually sleeping when he gets the call. 

It’s been nine months since he lost his leg, and in that time, he’s sort of gotten used to a normal schedule. Shift work kind of fucked with his circadian rhythms, and even before firefighting, he’d never had a proper routine. If he has to give it to one aspect of being traumatically medically retired from the career he loved, it’s the fucking routine. Getting a full night’s sleep every night? Game changer. 

The point is, he’s asleep when it happens. Curled up with a fifty-five pound golden retriever, who is currently somehow the big spoon in this arrangement. And although nine months may have passed since he last took a call, when his phone starts ringing on his bedside table, Buck snaps awake with first responder levels of awareness. 

He scrambles to grab the device, disrupting Cranberry, who gives a loud, dramatic sigh. She stands, walks from Buck to the opposite corner of the bed, and flops down, annoyed. Fair enough. Her beauty sleep is important. 

“...Lo?” Buck slurs into the phone. He answers it without checking the caller. If it’s spam he’ll be pissed. 

“Buck?” Bobby’s voice responds. 

Buck feels suddenly twice as alert.

“Bobby? Is everything okay?”

“Have you been watching the news?” 

“No? It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s not even eleven.” 

Okay. Well… 

“Bobby, what’s going on?” 

“It’s Eddie.” 

Buck goes rigid.

“Is… Is he?”

“He’s okay. But he’s had a very close call.” 

Buck sighs, relieved. That was the longest single second of his damned life. 

“Jesus.”

“And he’s asking for you.” 

[spaceless-vacuum]

It's the same anon that send in the previous royal! Reader ask with reader being betrothed. I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to see if you could write headcanons regarding that same topic. I didn't want to put it in the previous ask because it got a bit too long.

The whole royalty reader idea gets more interesting depending on which zelda/link you're with. 

Give me a duo who had an arranged marriage with you before the calamity. Spending so much time with their sweet bride and refusing to let you even think about helping out in the war. You can try to fight them about how you're capable and able to do more to defend their country and cry you might but they refuse to let you do anything about it. To them you're so much better suited to waiting the war out while they take care of it. Zelda often takes you to the springs with her, just knowing you're there while she prays alleviates her anxiety. The goddess has to hear her cries when youre by her side. Who could ignore such a sweet soul?

Link likes this as well. Being able to watch both of you helps him relax. Having you away from him not knowing if any yiga rats might hurt you tears him apart. It is his duty to protect you and his princess. Keeping you close by is the best way to make sure you're safe. Even if the lack of privacy may hurt your feelings it is absolutely necessary. Tying the knot between you and Zelda helped with relations between your two nations. The extra help with the war was sweet but having you as her prize was the real victory- even if no one ever heard how badly she wanted to just have you.

Zelda loves it when you help with the guardians. She can't spend all of her time studying them so having you do it and talking about it over tea and while travelling really makes her happy. Listening to your sweet voice go over the numbers and talk about how her plans are going along well just sounds so much sweeter when coming from your lips. The extra help with her other more mundane tasks like hair braiding and just the slow sweet domestic moments are her greatest pleasure. The way you help with domestic affairs was the whole point of the marriage after all.

Link feels a bit off while witnessing those moments but the way Zelda smiles when she looks at you makes up for all of it. He loves seeing the two of you being so happy. He smiles and finds that even your aura is enough to bring out the best in him. It's hard for him to keep such a cold demeanour when you're breaking down all of his walls.

. . .

Post calamity these two would be a handful. For multiple reasons. I didn't mention it much before but you are always at Zelda’s side or in a location they are ok with you being at, such as the castle. After the calamity it's hard to keep you pent up in one house all the time and even travelling with them isn't safe. Plus it's been one hundred years and they're not the same people they once were.

Flora lost you once and was convinced as she sent Link to the shrine of resurrection and as the two of you were separated that you were dead. She used the memory of who she was fighting for to help fuel her energy in the fight against holding the calamity back. Fighting the years away she awoke and found the most beautiful sight waiting to greet her. Her heart was so over flowing it felt like everything that happened up to this point was all worth it. Losing you was too much to remember most days. Yet here you were. Wild taking up the mantle of guardian you again. 

The new hero is certainly different. That much is easy to tell. He doesn't really remember you and his tendencies to always have to keep you in his line of sight are gone the first time you meet. He truly doesn't remember you. After such a long time, who can blame him but it still hurts you a bit. All Wild can recall is that you were a visiting royal who stayed at the castle. How you managed to live for so long, you explained it was all simple luck (magic, being put in the shrine of resurrection with link, Purahs anti aging device, idk maybe love or the calamity did it in hopes you would fall to the malice but you never did).

You spent your time adventuring and travelling with Wild. Hoping to rescue the princess and put an end to the calamity that you witnessed destroy everything ages ago. The dynamic changes a lot. You and Wild have spent a lot of time together and even after rescuing Flora he isn't willing to let go of you. The Link who died had to stand by because he couldn't mess with the royal wedding but there's no need to keep himself away anymore.

There was a time seeing the two of you being so close would have made her jealous, now however? She found seeing the two of you quite calming. Wild's yandere tendencies make her feel secure. She doesn't have to worry about your safety as Wild has obviously gotten ground rules set down that you follow. They're both so overprotective of you but it's clear to see why. Flora can get a bit jealous of the two of you; but who wouldn't be after seeing the way you smile? The jealousy never lingers but it does make her feel sorry about what happened. The life she promised you, the kingdom she was going to rule with you, and all of the plans for the future. It's all gone. She can no longer give you what she once was going to.

As the two of you spend more time together and rekindle what was there it only fuels her love for you. It cements the fact that you married her for her. Not for her title, not for the kingdom, not any of it. For her. You want her. You went so far as to help Wild save her. All for love. She considers the two of you still married and would love to redo your vows.

. . .

Age of calamity Fauna and Calamity. This link is far more stern. There's a literal war going on. He can't spend his time always on the lookout for you. He needs you to stay put as far away from the front line as possible. Fauna lets Calamity do the stern talking but she gets in on it as well when you start to pull the royalty card to try and regain some of your freedom. It's not like you're going far, but it's still so dangerous and they can't bear to lose you. Once Fauna unlocks her powers she gets an aura around her, in truth though she couldn't care less about unlocking her powers. All she wants is for this war to be over a day sooner. She can't wait until this war is behind her so she can just live a normal life with you.

Keeping you by her side all the time and spending her days in the castle while you share stories with her is all she truly wants. Calamity’s goal is the same. He just wants to put this all behind him so he can finally figure out who he is without all of this hero business. Fauna has no issues with sharing you between the two as they have spent so much time together that there's really nothing he can hide from her, and her from him. Your life after the war is much like it was before just with two very needy yanderes who have to have your attention at all times.

. . .

Time would love for nothing more than to take you away. He loves to have you visit him at work when hes with the knights or at the farm. Seeing your down to earth and kind personality as a royal makes him feel secure in the kingdom's future. Due to this part of the timeline being the one where he was sent back to a kid before Ganon betrayed Hyrule. The hero wasn't needed and Zelda never let Ganon into the sacred realm so he feels… sort of odd. He enjoys your company and adores being able to talk about being a hero around you without feeling strange about the whole ordeal. You're so hypnotising he's always at such a loss for words around you. In a sense he knows he's the one who should be treating you like royalty but there is one small issue. You Are to be wed to Lullaby.  He knows you're more than friends but he can't just take you away because to do so would upset your marriage; and he can't stretch the truth to Malon and say he kidnapped the princess. That's what Ganon did; but he can't live in this fantasy world while wishing you were his. He lets this eat him up inside until he eventually talks to his Zelda about it but it's a hard topic.

Lullaby seems loyal and regal and in royal gossip there is this air of her being holier than thou but it's all air. An aura. She doesn't do anything like that at all. In fact part of what drew you to her was how down to earth she is. She's a very multilayered person. She works day and night both as princes but mostly as a sheikah warrior. While exposing Ganon as a traitor she can't be sure his influence is fully gone. She needs stability and power and she has about ten different jobs to get down and they all need to be done by now. She needs someone all the time. Someone who can help her. To comfort her when she cries, to rub her back when she's sick, to be there with her when she prays, she needs a friend and ally and someone to help her spar. She sees how willing you are to help and she latches onto that. The love of her life just showed up out of the blue and now everything feels so much easier. The problems fade away as the hours pass when you're by her side.

Once you've started to help her she's already planning to get her claws in you and never let go. Deals and money exchanges hands all the time and if she gets her own a bit dirty who can prove it was really her and not Sheik? Lullaby is the type to not realise how far gone she is in her obsession with you until she's already planning on how others might need to die and realises “oh, this wasn't on my schedule yesterday.” and she snaps out of it for a moment and it hits her like a ton of bricks. She LOVES loves you. It hits her how much she can't stand to lose you. The light of her life is not even the gods could keep her from you now. As long as you're married your bond will be eternal but she can't help but want more to do with you. She lets Time in to help protect you and watch over you, and to keep you busy when she's not around- but she has to come first in the relationship. She can share but not when she wants you, only when she can't be there right now. She’ll let him in when she's not there and sees it as thanks for keeping you safe but Lullaby can't bear to see how close you are if you two haven't done something together yet. She can't stand to feel like second best.

. . .

Artemis is a troublemaker. Not because she is by heart but because she wants a domestic life but she just cant afford it. She is wealthy enough, but her kingdom just suffered from a war. Your marriage was chosen just as much for political gain as it was her hope for a loving partner. She is a hopeless romantic and often vents to Link and Impa and has them weigh in on who they think would be a good choice. She is very picky and settles on you after a few tests and invites you over only to realise you have such a good heart. You don't act like those other nobles and you care a lot for the people. Is it meant to try and test you by setting up scenarios to fall into your hands? Even as she does so she watches from the corner as a spy does it for her and she just prays seeing you prove yourself time and time again.

Although Artemis wants the picture perfect life nothing in her Hyrule is picture perfect right now. No matter how hard she works there is always something else that needs to be done. TWhen she meets you she's caught off guard. It all seems too soon for the perfect person ever to walk in while she's still trying to recover. She built up her walls so much that when she meets you and you're perfect she realises she's now a major red flag. More so as she starts to plan on how to trap you into marrying her. Suddenly she's nervous and wiping sweat off of her hands and trying so hard to act casual but she cant be after seeing how your eyes look and you're so gorgeous, is it too soon to take a bite out of you? Handling her is handling seven different bombs that are all going to go off at different times and cause six different sized explosions. A lot of fun for people who enjoy that type of chaos but unfortunately she makes peace with the fact that you two will never have a picture perfect relationship on the inside. She craves you too badly to play nice.

Warrior is just as bad as Artemis is sometimes. He has seen far too much war to feel ok and the thoughts and feelings of everything he saw and went through weigh heavy on him. He needs comfort and finds so much of it in you. When on his late night walks he finds himself at your door. Having walked to you without even realising it. Artemis is jealous of him at first but she softens as soon as she sees the way he relaxes around you. She can't be mad at him; she just can't stand to see the two of you alone. As long as she's there to comfort him as well she doesn't mind, although Link would like some alone time he can't push her on this. The two of them both want you but can't stand to let the other just have you without a fight, and neither of them are up for anymore fighting.

. . .

Ok that's all the ones I have for now, I wish I could have written more because there so many small details that I think would really shine in a long form writing or a one shot but I don't have the time for that my lunch break is almost over... I loved this so much I hope it makes sense. I focused more on how the dynamic plays between the two rather than them both sharing you, but that's because I think its so much more interesting! I would love to write more about this soon

[annymation]

for the asks requests:

1: DARIO BACKSTORY NOW

2: I wanna hear abt bravo

3: Florian reaction to everything

4: SYMBOLISM. PLEASE. 🍽️

Oh I actually didn't expect for all of these to be asked all of the same time, as they're kinda long answers... Specially number 3. But I can work with that :)

I think you guys might really like what's down here:

1- What Did Dario Not Tell Them At The Campfire

So when asked if he had any bad experiences with the king, Dario just answered he'd rather not talk about it. The reason isn't because Magnifico did something to him directly, but rather indirectly. See, Dario's dad is the royal announcer and his mother is a singer, both jobs that require their voices, and they value their voices a lot, while Dario was born with a speech impediment.

One day, Dario overheard them talking in their room, and they said how they hoped when Dario turned 18 he'd wish for the king to give him a voice.

Now, to some that may seem like a good wish, "who wouldn't want to have a voice?" you may ask, thing is that most disabled people don't want to be changed, what they want is to be accepted. Obviously though I can't speak for the whole ASL community, however I did study the basics of sign language in college, and my teacher, who is deaf, taught us about deaf culture, and how you shouldn't assume someone WANTS to be like you, to be "Fixed".

Dario didn't want to change himself, but in that moment he felt like his parents saw him as someone broken and hoped the king could fix him...

So yeah I didn't have him explain all that because it's way too depressing even for me.

2- Where Did Bravo Come From

A more wholesome little story with our faaaaaaavorite evil duo! Yay!

So, Amaya often goes to the woods to get ingredients for her potions, mushrooms, herbs, animal parts, you name it. She goes alone, just wearing a hooded cloak so she's not recognized.

One day, during her foraging, she heard a sound coming from behind her:

"Miirrrau!"

It was a quiet, growly meow

And she kept hearing it over and over, like it was asking for help. Now although the queen has a heart as cold as ice, she felt moved by the tiny cries, so she followed them into the woods.

And here's what she found:

"Awwwwwwwn~" Her iced heart melted at the sight of what she thought was a little kitten "Are you lost, little one?"

"Miaurrr!" the kitten had a weirdly growly voice, but still high pitched like any kitten, he seemed to be scared and lost, looking for him mom

"Don't fret, you're safe now" she takes him and puts him in her basket full of mushrooms "I'll take you to your new home. Heh heh heh my love will have quite the surprise when he sees you"

So she goes back to the palace, Magnifico is busy changing some wishes when she arrives

"Daaaaarliiiiing~ Look what I found in the woods today!" She says showing him the kitten

Magnifico looks quite surprised, although he has seen Amaya do some REALLY messed up things, he never thought she'd use a whole kitten as a potion ingredient

"Hmmm... How nice dear, but uh- If you don't mind me asking- What kind of potion requires a kitten sacrifice?" He asks smiling, trying to be supportive of her weird hobbies

"SACRIFICE???" She holds the kitten close to her, looking very offended that her husband would imply that "I don't want to kill him! I want to keep him!"

"OOOOOH I see, I see. That makes more sense" The king says kinda relieved

(They have murdered and ruined the lives of millions, but they draw the line at killing a kitten)

"Well then, if that's your desire then he's all yours, my beldam. But don't expect me to take care of him as well" He said

And that basically went like one of those "Dad said he didn't want the dog" memes, because Magnifico really liked the cat and took care of him just as much as Amaya.

They named him "Bravo" because it's both what you say to cheer for someone after a performance, and their whole thing is that they're constantly acting to their people, and also means angry in Spanish, and the kitten often looked grumpy.

But as time went on, and Bravo grew... They noticed he just wouldn't stop growing. And soon enough they realized... That wasn't a cat, that was a lynx.

And thats how the situation went from good to GREAT!

Like, they just raised their own killing machine without even knowing it was a killing machine, they were beyond ecstatic, they were running around like "YES YES YEEEES!!!" ya feel me?

3- How Florian Reacts To Everything

Now, to answer this one, I'll tell you a story... About something that happened in the chapter "Into The Eye Of The Storm".

Something that happened from Magnifico's perspective... After he got struck by lightning.

So let me set the scene.

...

He felt excruciating pain he never imagine possible course through his body, and light was all he could see.

Until it wasn't.

Everything went black.

Magnifico shot his eyes open, and all he could see was a dark emptiness surrounding him, and feel water beneath his feet.

The king looked around completely lost, one moment he was in the storm with that star, and in the next he was here... His staff wasn't with him, he was powerless.

He hears a voice

"Huh... Took much longer than I would've liked, but oh well, looks like you finally got what you deserved."

Magnus gets startled by the voice coming from all around him, but tries to hide his fear by masking it with anger "Who's there?!" he demands to know

"Really? After just 25 years you've already forgotten my voice?" The youthful but voice says, bitterness dripping from his tone. Magnifico's eyes widen as he indeed starts to recognize the voice... The voice he celebrated he'd never would have to hear all those years ago. The figure starts to manifest itself in front of him as it says "But then again, you never were the type to listen much, were you, Mag?" Florian calls him by the nickname he used to affectionally call his older sibling.

Magnus sees his younger brother floating in front of him, but the expression on his face is one the king has never seen before. Florian was always happy, always kind and sympathetic, innocent, he was like the personification of sunshine itself. Now? Now his expression was so full of hatred, hiding behind a mocking smile, like Florian has been waiting for this a long time.

"See you grew a beard heh heh you look just like dad" The spirit jokes

Magnifico is staring at the apparition before him with wide eyes, his mind is racing, trying to make sense of any of this, how could he go from fighting with the star to thi-... Wait... He remembers something he read about wishing stars, they have the power to give people dreams... He must have been knocked out and the star is trying to play a trick on him... Yeah, that's gotta be it.

He smiles thinking he just figured this all out "Hahah guilt tripping? Really? Didn't think that was your style, Aster, I'm almost impresse-"

"You died." Florian just gives it to him straight.

Magnifico freezes.

"You flew too close to the sun brother, or rather, too close to the storm." The spirit explains, and starts to float circles around his older brother "And soon, your soul will completely leave this plane, and I will finally rest in peace knowing MY people are free from you." The spirit speaks almost spitting on Magnus face, emphasizing how the people of Rosas are his people, his kingdom that Magnus stole.

But the older brother is almost blocking out the sound of his voice, too busy processing that if what he's saying is true then... "Amaya... It can't end like this, I can't leave her no-"

"HAH! That's what you worry about? That wretched witch?!" Florian now has a mocking smile on his face, it's a smile Magnifico has never seen from his caring little brother in life... It doesn't even look like him anymore.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT!" He yells, now starting to accept that yes, that is indeed his brother's ghost, and he's enraged to see him again.

"Pretty sure I get to call the woman who poisoned me whatever I want." Florian says nonchalantly

"Tsk not our fault you made it so easy" the older brother smirks, trying to come out on top of the situation "I mean, a random mystery woman shows up out of nowhere, and you just invites her to be the royal potion maker? What did you think was gonna happe-"

"I thought you'd finally be happy." Florian interrupts him with a serious expression, Magnus stops talking and stares at him confused, so Florian continues "When you first locked eyes with her, I saw a spark in you... A gleam of happiness you never shown in all the years we lived together... I knew you were in love with her... THATS why I let her stay." He explains with every word dripping with bitterness "I thought "Finally, my big brother won't be so lonely and angry all the time! Love will surely make him move on from the fact he wasn't meant to be king!"" Florian makes a slightly more high pitched and cheerful voice as if to mimic how he used to sound like when he was alive "Hahah It's quite the tragic comedy, ain't it? I helped in your union... Unaware I was digging my own grave."

"... And do you think I care? We would've ended up together regardless. And I would take the crown that is RIGHTFULLY MINE regardless of whatever you did!" Magnus exclaims. If he's really dead and this is just the limbo between the land of the living and the after life, then he might as well take this opportunity to let out everything he wanted to tell his little brat of a brother all those years "The throne was MY RIGHT! But he said "NoOooO son! You must learn magic! So you may grant their wishes" WELL what if I don't WANT to grant all their whiny little pleas, like I'm some kind of SERVANT?! I wanted to follow my own path! I dreamed of being a good king! But then YOU showed up!"

"Sorry for being born, I guess" Florian says sarcastically

"YEARS watching them give you everything I ever wanted... I was pushed aside like I was NOTHING." Magnus sounds more and more deranged as he begins to smile sadistically at his brother "WELL GUESS WHAT! Now I "grant" more wishes than YOU and all of those old fools EVER DID! The people ADORE ME! And no one even remembers you!" Magnus spats out like he just won this argument, Florian is raising one eyebrow, looking at him like this is quite pathetic. The older king walks closer to him with a grin "So, how does it feel huh? Knowing your legacy will forever be "Just King Magnifico's little brother that fell ill and died""

Florian looks at him serious for a moment, before smiling confident again "I never did it to be remembered, I did it because I wanted to make my people happy, and I can rest easy knowing I did just that... While you lived a meaningless life, trying soooo desperately to make everyone love you, hoping that would make it up for the years you were ignored... Did it work?" Magnus looks shocked by those words, he tries to respond but Florian doesn't let him "Of course it didn't, you'll never be satisfied. And now, as if making my people suffer all these years wasn't enough, you try to steal the magic of a star, but oh-oh that didn't work, it got you killed in the most foolish way possible!... Now it won't be long until people find out the truth, then NO ONE will "Adore you" nor "Remember you"." Florian smiles widely as he asks "So, how does it feel huh? Knowing your legacy will forever be... Nothing."

Magnus has no words... His brother had never spoken to him like that... No one has ever spoken to him like that.

Florian looks satisfied, but he already know that... Unfortunately, Magnus time hasn't come just yet

"*sigh* Karma really does work in mysterious ways... Looks like the witch comes to your rescue, Mag... Again." Florian says with his arms crossed.

Magnus doesn't understand what he's talking about "Wha-"

"When you get back, if you even remember any of this... Tell Amaya that I lied, her tea tasted terrible." He says with a cheeky grin while waving his brother goodbye.

Magnus feels him sink into the water beneath his feet. He screams and-

His eyes are shot open.

He gasps for air.

Amaya brought him back from the dead with her kiss.

...

So yeah, that's dead Florian, his personality is waaaay different when he was alive by the way, but I enjoyed writing someone that can spit some facts on Magnifico's face.

4- Symbolism

I've wrote a whole lot in this, so I'll just end on a simple note:

I like the symbolism of Asha's family always being with her, from her wearing her mother's cloak and her ability to draw being what saved her, to her singing to inspire the people like her father, and playing her grandfather's mandolin, it really feels like even though they weren't THERE they were essential characters in her journey. And I'm proud of this little detail.

There's more juicy symbolism but now I'm exhausted from writing because MY GOSH Florian was intense, I really got into the mindset of a 20 year old that got murdered by the brother he once admired and I don't feel well. OOF. Imma take a break lmao

Thank you for the ask and

Thank You For Reading!

[dovedewdrop]

One Number Away (Joel’s POV)

I'm one number away from calling you

I said I was through, but I'm dying, inside

Got my head in a mess, girl, I confess

I lied when I said, "I'm leaving and not coming back" / 1.3k

✨Part 1✨ ✨Part 2✨

A/N: My sincerest apologies for the wait! Thought I'd switch it up and give you all a lil look at the inside of Joel's brain😊 Also I just got back from staying in a cabin for a week and its been giving me soft cowboy!Joel thoughts so if anyone would care to grace my inbox with any thoughts on that...👀🤠🤎

Warnings: Joel being a saddie. Angst.

---

Joel thought being alone would be better. He didn’t need distractions or people depending on him anymore, he’d only let them down anyway. So when you left with Tommy he thought he’d feel lighter, now that there was a weight off his shoulders, but as it turns out, the hunch over his shoulders only pushed him down further. 

Everywhere he went he felt the cold at his back, seeping into his bones, reminders of having lost Sarah and how he pushed you and his own brother away. He tried to move on, to tell himself that all of those things were in the past and he had to focus on the next thing, focus or get himself killed but the sting of his losses were written all over him for everyone to see.

Even Tess knew that he wasn’t for her, that his heart belonged to someone else and always would, so she held him at night “for warmth” and made him breakfast and poured him whiskey under the guise of friendship, hoping that one day he’d maybe see her.

For 20 years Joel sat in his guilt and anger, he let it seep through every fibre of his being, he may not be infected by cordyceps, but he was affected in a different way. Not that he was ever the most happy-go-lucky guy in Austin but he had love for his family and that made him smile and laugh and joke around, now there was nothing to laugh about. 

That is, until he met Ellie.       

It took him so long to warm up to her, every time he looked at her he thought about you and Sarah, he told himself that the baby you were carrying wasn’t just a miscarriage but a foreshadowing of what was to come, how it would be all his fault. Everyday spent with Ellie triggered a fountain of emotions for him, he told himself that he shouldn’t be trusted to look after her, then the next day he’d tell himself that this was his chance to make things right, to protect her like he couldn’t protect Sarah. His inside of his head resembled that of a wasps nest, thoughts always buzzing and swarming in his mind with no chance of respite, but when Ellie cracked that one joke it did, in fact, have him laughing, his mind began to quiet, and he had to admit that it was nice to not always be filled with tension.

As they crossed the country together he found his thoughts sometimes drifting to you, wondering for the most part if you were still alive. If you were, were you happy? Happy to be free of him? Happy to maybe start a new life with someone else? Or were you constantly walking through this life being traumatised? Something he knew you didn’t deserve and especially not from him. He thinks about how you were always there for him and how in the end he took your kindness and stomped all over it in those big boots of his.

When he saw you in Jackson he couldn’t do anything. He was overjoyed to see Tommy but as soon as he saw those eyes of yours, the ones that overflowed with tears the last time he saw you, he was physically rooted in place whilst mentally his mind was running a hundred miles an hour.

He watched as you walked off before turning to Tommy with a sombre look on his face. “I don’t know why I didn’t expect to see her here”, his brother didn’t know how to respond to him, as much as he was happy to see Joel, he stood firm on the fact that he had some grovelling to do. “Thank you for keepin’ her safe” The look in Joel’s eyes was genuine before he headed off in the direction of Ellie to help her with her things.

The sight of both you and Tommy after 18 years is what really took the weight off his shoulders, despite the incessant buzzing starting to creep back in. The collection of doubts begun to swirl around his brain, she doesn’t want to see you, she wouldn’t accept your apology if you gave her one, and would you blame her? He wanted so desperately to talk to you, to pull you close to his chest again, to kiss the top of your head but you were both different people now and he couldn’t ask any of those things of you.

So after his tiff with Tommy he couldn’t resist treading the snow to your house after you’d let out a snide remark. The pit in his stomach told him it was a bad idea, he was already riled up and he didn’t want to let you see that he was still an asshole, sometimes and besides, you don’t need him, you have a new life here, a better life without him, so it was better if he kept his distance. 

However, before he even knew what was happening the words were tumbling out of his mouth and into the cold air, condensing it with a fog, “You…got a boyfriend?” He clocked you rolling your eyes at him. Stupid. He shouldn’t have ever come over. And then you were chastising him, something you hadn’t done since before this whole thing started because somewhere along the way you became small and he hated himself for it every single day. 

He couldn’t help but take in your features, your soft lips, remembering the way you’d sometimes press them into his shoulder or your eyes, the way they lit up when you held the pregnancy test up to him from the bathroom floor. 

He wanted to know what was on your mind even though he doubted you would tell him and he was right, you weren’t answering him and that was all the confirmation he needed that you weren’t interested in engaging with a man who was now pretty much a stranger to you all over again. He had to walk away, for today at least, he was tired, the day had been long and he was emotionally all over the place.

But when you spoke up and confessed everything to him, he had stopped in his tracks and the tears were one blink away from creating a stream over the planes of his face. He couldn’t let you see the inner turmoil he was going through, he wanted to run to you to, to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go again but he also didn’t trust that he was fixed, that he was cured of his anger and his traumas.

In a panic, he simply pushed out a “see ya around.”

The following few days were hard for Joel. The buzzing had returned full-time and he was feeling antsy, sometimes snapping at Ellie and feeling immediate guilt. He was working on it. However, when Saturday came around he couldn’t help it, he’d held it together for so long, when you left he’d only slipped up once, the scar on his temple a constant reminder of that.

He’d been watching you watch him and Ellie put the decorations on their Christmas tree, his heart feeling tight, because you should be here with him and Sarah and your little one, who wouldn’t be so little anymore. He’d found himself in the pub at 7:30pm that Saturday evening, downing his drinks and letting his eyes drift towards you, he knew he wasn’t helping himself but he was at a loose end, with no idea what to do with himself anymore.

The next morning he felt rough, he’d cried and cried and cried into his pillow for the majority of the night after Tommy had left him, his fist sometimes slamming down on the pillow lying next to him, before chastising himself mentally, he wouldn’t do this if you were lying next to him, he wouldn’t even be pissed out of his mind if that was the case. He brewed his morning coffee and dragged himself onto the porch, not surprised to see you sat on yours at all. He slumped down into a chair and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, he had to figure this out, decide what he was going to do. 

[dispatchvampire]

Accidentally in Love (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x FemaleOC

Warnings: Potentially lethal levels of fluffiness right now, potential for smut later. A little blood, canon levels of violence potentially. Plus size female OC, body descriptions.

Rating: PG-13 (right now for language, but look for this to change)

WC: 1800-ish.

Summary: 

Echo's living a normal life in NYC, a 911 dispatcher, the most excitement she gets is from the calls she takes. And then love comes crashing in one day when she's riding her bike through Central Park.

Steve and Bucky weren't looking for anything on their daily run around the park besides fresh air and exercise. The streak of purple eye candy on a bike that lapped them pretty regularly was a nice addition but not mandatory, at least until some impromptu roughhousing results in some civilian casualties in the form of the most beautiful woman either of them had seen in a long, long time.

A/N: AU, Post CACW, Bucky’s Chill and we have always lived in the Tower. Just call this a throwback to the found family, everyone lives in Stark Tower fics.

This is supposed to be a super-fluffy love story. Still undecided if I'm gonna keep this one going but posting now for giggles and grins. It's got some CSI:NY characters crossing over because why not.

I'm just messing about and playing in my WIPs folder. Not Beta'd: we die like men! (honestly, I tried but if you catch something I missed, let me know)

Chapter 3

One Week Later

“Is he hot in person?”

“Who?” Echo slipped her lunch into the breakroom fridge and pulled out the two cold bottles of caffeinated water she’d left in there the previous night. Late afternoon as it slipped into evening was always a busy time and she needed the fortification. 

“Spongebob Squarepants,” Kalenda, her work bestie, scoffed as she crossed her arms with an impatient frown. The curvy brunette was Echo’s age, about two inches shorter but making up for it with feistiness. “Who do you think? Bucky freaking Barnes! Christ, it’s like you don’t even know me at all.”

 “Lord…” she rolled her eyes as she held the door to the break room open for her friend to pass in front of her on their way into the main center. “Yes. Yes, he is just as beautiful in person, and he and Captain Rogers together are, in fact, as kind and stupidly hot as advertised.” After the visit at the hospital where they’d returned her replaced or repaired belongings—including her bike—Echo had traded numbers with Steve and Bucky, and the guys had texted her a few times in the intervening days to check on her and chatting a little, but it felt weird reaching out to contact them just because. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything. 

Not that she wouldn’t have minded being their friend, or… well, or. They were gorgeous, sweet, funny so far as she could tell, and of course heroic and selfless as hell. The way they smiled at her made her knees weak and her pussy may never recover. What’s not to like? But who was she kidding, really. They were the objects of desire for over half the planet, she guessed, and she was a dispatcher for the NYPD. In no way were those worlds truly related, outside of the most superficial ways, much less were compatible. 

“The hair and those eyes, I’d get so fucking lost in them you’d never find me again. And all those muscles,” she sighed lustily. “Fuck me, that’s before we even talk about that metal arm,” Kalenda carried on, now in full swoon as they made their way out to their stations. “Gods, the things I would let him do to me…” 

Echo snorted at her friend’s obvious heart-eyes in regards to the Winter Soldier. She didn’t blame her at all, but still, their coworkers didn’t need to be privy to their depraved bestie conversations. That’s what the chat was for. “Annnnnnd that is how we end up back at the supervisor’s office for inappropriate work conversations.”

Kalenda scoffed, waving off her concern with a dismissive hand-wave. “Oh, like you’ve never said anything filthy.” Her wicked grin should have been the warning. “Something something ‘star-spangled cock could split you open any time he wanted’? Something something ‘break him down to the frame’... any of that sound familiar?” 

Her leering green gaze as she slipped on her headset made Echo giggle even as heat rushed to her cheeks. “You could shut up any time now.”  

The laughter was shortlived, though, as they settled into their workday. Having a headset on meant that it was time to serve the citizens of NYC and the officers of NYPD to the best of their abilities. They were one of, if not the, largest comm center in the country and Echo was proud of the work she did, contributing to the safety of her town. 

It was easy to get lost in the work, one call at a time, one radio run at a time. Her focus, scattered as it could be at any other time, easily fell into the rhythm of call and response, action and reaction, hours slipping by unnoticed. 

Voices behind her and down at the end of her row drew her attention, their familiarity abruptly yanking her out of the zone. 

One pair of eyes zeroed in on her immediately. “Well, if it isn’t the crash test dummy.” 

Boisterously loud for the locale, Tony Stark was the walking definition of ‘all eyes on me’. He may have been in a crazy expensive suit and tie, looking all prim and proper and what have you, but the curve of his lips promised the most interesting kinds of mischief. 

Echo swallowed hard as she made herself unavailable for calls, her eyes quickly darting left and right to the unabashed gawking of her coworkers. Oh, they were still busy as hell, but the nosy bastards were never above a good spectacle. “Mr. Stark.” 

“Did the phone meet your standards?” he demanded with a smirk that seemed a little too knowing. He stopped behind her chair, spinning her around to face him. 

She nodded hesitantly. “It did, thank you. I mailed you a thank you note. Did you not get it?” 

Yes, it had been an old school touch, but sending him an email seemed a little impersonal, especially since he’d gone to the trouble of transferring all her stuff over in addition to giving her a top of the line bit of tech. And it wasn’t like she could just show up on his doorstep with a casserole.

He snorted, his billion dollar smile on full display as his eyes crinkled at the edges. “I did, but then, I expected nothing less considering you hang out with the geriatric set.” 

She was about to ask what he meant when another voice cut her off. “Tony, Jesus, man. Quiet down, people are working here—oh, hey Echo.” 

She sincerely hoped the whimpering squeak as she spun quickly to face him she heard was just in her head, though Kalenda’s snort behind her indicated no such luck. “Hi. James. I-I mean Bucky. Um…” her eyes met her bestie’s just behind him for some help, but only found the kind of mocking encouragement born from years of friendship. “Nice to see you. Here. At my job.” 

“Um yeah, about that…” The brunet smoothed his long bangs back out of his face behind his ears and grinned bashfully as he rubbed the back of his neck. Under other circumstances, she and Kalenda would be ogling him for the way the seams of his deep blue henley were barely clinging to life across his shoulders and around his massive arms and the skinny jeans that were all but wrecking her concentration. “Cap and Tony had a meeting at 1PP and Stevie wanted me to tag along.” 

“I’m glad he did.” The way her compliment made his cheeks flush felt like winning an award, even if the normal filter she kept up at work slipped a bit. 

“Me too.” The tiny shy grin that danced at the corners of his lips was killing her slowly, even as the somewhat awkward silence stretched out between them. 

Kalenda’s obvious throat-clearing seemed to startle her back into herself, reminding her acutely of both their location and their audience. 

“Well, it’s always good to see you.” The platitude was automatic, off her tongue and into the space between them before she even thought about it, her nerves robbing her mind of anything but decent manners. Good gods, she was never gonna live this down. 

“You look good.” His eyes widened a moment later as he flushed bright red, clearly that hadn’t been what he’d meant to come out of his mouth. “I mean, that is… you look better than when I saw you last time.” 

“Hard not to,” she conceded, her mind bordering on hysterical the longer this conversation went on. It felt like the whole world was watching this junior-high level farce and she was stumbling through it, quite badly. 

“Well, on the upside, you’re wearing more clothes this time,” Tony interjected oh-so-helpfully, looking like he was avidly watching the best telenovela ever and doing nothing to quell the likely overheating rumor mill that had just kicked into gear around them. “And there’s less blood.” 

“Alright, thank you, Mr. Stark,” Shelly, the floor supervisor’s breathlessly cheerful voice sounded like she’d rather eat broken glass than let that conversation continue as she rushed across the room to join them. “Echo, Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, and Captain Rogers—”

“Hello, Echo.” 

She was almost afraid to look, though Kalenda’s dreamy sigh left her no other choice. Sure enough, the gods of horniness were testing her and pretty much every woman in the five boroughs with these three Avengers out together. In a black t-shirt under a green button-down and jeans that gave her the most impure thoughts possible about his thighs, the blond Avenger with the pink cheeks grinned at her warmly from his spot behind Tony. The fact her panties didn’t burst into flames right there was a miracle of modern physics. 

“Hey Steve.” 

“As I was saying,” her supervisor huffed, bringing all of the attention back to her, “they’re here to tour the center, so we should really be on our way.” 

Sounded reasonable to her, so long as they were there, Echo doubted there’d be much work done anyway. “Alright then.” Echo turned back to her console to take stock of her district. “It was good to see you. Be safe out there.”

“Before we go though…” Buck’s half-grin as he met her eye over her shoulder warmed her to her toes. “You out of here soon?” 

“A few hours. Why?” 

“Wanna meet up for a late dinner?” 

His hopeful expression tugged at her heart. It was the kind of thing that made her want to give him the world, even if she didn’t know him like that. “It’ll be after ten,” she hedged, perched on the fence between really wanting to spend time with them because who wouldn’t, really, and knowing that she’s no one special and didn’t have any business tagging along with them. 

“Then we’ll leave a light on for ya,” Steve replied cheerfully as he and Bucky were led further into the center and away from her desk. “See you tonight.”

“Always a pleasure, Crash,” Tony called, following behind him. 

Echo sat blinking at her console as she watched the group retreat, only spurred to action when she caught Steve’s eye as he winked at her before leaving the room. 

“What just happened?” she asked the Universe at large as she typed in the login code for her phone from muscle memory.

“Looks to me,” Kalenda replied lightly dropping off a new bottle of caffeinated water, “like you have a date after work.” 

“Huh.” The very idea was mindblowing. Quickly, her mind was shaken from its haze by a bank robbery that required both her and Kalenda’s attention for quite a while. 

“And had the nerve not to introduce me.”

[rhythymicwriting]

A Voice Like Summer Thunder - Shizaya

I'm considering making this a full length fic. For now, here's the initial drabble. It starts with a recap of Durararax2 ep 12.

“Hey… Who the hell is this?” His voice was low as he spoke into the phone, eyes flicking to the side as if to see the caller. He hadn’t saved the number, so it couldn’t have been a client, but the man spoke about Izaya’s dealings with the Awakusu. More specifically, the man knew he told Akane Awakusu that Shizuo Heiwajima was going to kill her father. Who else would know he’d set Akane on Shizuo? 

Namie?

Nakura?

No, he knew their voices. Izaya had a bad feeling about this. 

The caller laughed. “There’s no need for you to know my name just yet. But as a token of our new friendship, let me offer you an opinion. Or rather,” He corrected. “A warning. You’re a bit too good looking, Izaya.”

“What?” He stopped in his tracks. What the hell did that mean? This wasn’t some stalker creep, was it? Dealing with his breed of clientele put him at risk for that sort of thing and he knew it, but they weren’t usually this forward. Izaya couldn’t help being a little bit intrigued by the mystery call, however unsettling it may be. 

“It makes you stand out in a crowd,” The caller explained. “So in your case, blending in isn’t really an ideal way for you to hide. Besides, you’re looking kind of stressed.” Izaya tensed. Hold on, that voice on the phone…

It was coming from behind him. 

“I think a nap would do you a world of good.” A shoulder slammed into his own, the man using his momentum to drive something sharp through Izaya’s jacket. Cold metal burst through his warm skin, searing pain running through his torso. His breath caught, a strangled grunt the only sound he could make as the man walked through him, knocking Izaya off balance.

He stumbled, watching the caller walk ahead of him. It was only for a moment, though, before motion on his own shirt caught his eye. A dark stain formed on the cloth, sticking it against Izaya’s skin. As he watched the stain grow, he realized he still hadn’t regained his balance. 

He was tipping.  

The phone clattered from his hand, call still active, as Izaya dropped to his knees. His arms were too slow to catch him and he fell the rest of the way to the ground, coarse asphalt scraping his cheek. 

“Oh and since you asked,” The man’s words were intelligible, but it was a struggle, pain deadening Izaya’s brain. He fought to focus on the call, ignoring the sound of murmurs and his own pained groans. “My name is Jinnai Yodogiri and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Damn,” He cursed. Izaya wriggled, trying to pull himself toward the phone, his fingers brushing the plastic case, but every motion caused agonizing fireworks to blossom in his side, their fiery tendrils snaking through his nervous system. 

“Gotta… Get a hold of… Namie.” He groaned. Man, it was hard to breathe. The ground was slick beneath him, the usual grip of asphalt lost to the ruby pool. Countless city lights reflected off the surface, falling flat against his clothing where the liquid seeped. 

Izaya’s sight was blurred, the phone a glowing smear against the dull pavement. His fingers, finally reaching, fumbled the device, muscle memory guiding him more than his own will. It was lucky he’d even opened his contacts. 

“Hello?” You’re kidding. Even dazed with pain, he recognized that voice. Izaya stayed quiet. “Is someone there?”

The line was quiet for a moment more. Shit. If he kept waiting like this, Izaya might actually bleed out. How humiliating would that be. The great Izaya of Shinjuku, bleeding to death on an Ikebukuro crosswalk. Would it be worse than asking this monster for help?

For a vital, life saving second, Izaya decided it was.

“I’m…I need help.”

A tongue clicked on the other end. “What? Why’re you botherin me?”

“Please,” The word felt like bile in his mouth. Apparently, pride really does evaporate when you’re stabbed. “I’m…bleeding.” He groaned again. His breath was shallow, blood bubbling from the wound with every inhale, pain rocketing through his abdomen. 

The phone stayed quiet. The world grew darker and brighter, all at once. Izaya’s vision tunneled at the edges, a dizzying vignette softening the city, but pin prick stars burned his retinas. The sound of the crowd around him buried his thoughts, a muddled knot running through his head instead of their usual ordered lines. 

“Well? Answer me, damn it!” The coarse sound stuck out of the noise, drawing his attention back to the blurry screen. He drew the screen toward his face, whatever word that may have been written there moved from too-far-away blurry to too-close blurry. 

“What?” His voice drawled, pulling like molasses from his chest, words heavy on his tongue. 

“Shit.” The voice grumbled, angry at repeating its question. “Where are you?”

“Um.” Izaya’s eyes flicked around lazily, but there was little for them to pick up, their lids too heavy to lift. “Ikebukuro.”

The voice rose in volume. “That doesn’t hel-” 

Another voice murmured something, the phone sliding gently from Izaya’s hand. He was aware of the pull at his shoulders, lifting him only high enough to slide across the ground, but he was distracted by the pain shooting through his middle. 

Izaya felt himself lain on his side against cooler pavement, a softer muttering playing above his head, sticking out from the crowd, but no more coherent. City lights flared, excruciating pain igniting in his abdomen. A woman leaned over him, her arms arrow straight as she pressed on his wound. Izaya coughed. He heard what might have been ‘sorry.’ His phone was on speaker, balanced on his leg. She’d taken over the call. Her hands stayed steady, shoved against his side, the burning pain fading behind a cozy cloud of exhaustion.

The gentle, steady buzz of what he guessed was a phone call lulled him into a foggy dusk, bright, burning lights fizzling out. 

*

When fuzzy white light burned orange through his eyelids, Izaya assumed he was waking up in a hospital. Antiseptic smell, thin sheets, hard mattress, yes, this had to be a hospital. He breathed deep, flinching when his stretch pulled at a raw wound. Nerves flared from his hip to his sternum. “Ugh.” He rolled onto his side, pushing himself up. “Being stabbed blows.”

“Huh?” Rich colored wood greeted him as he opened his eyes. He still smelled antiseptic, paper thin sheets were still draped over his legs, but he realized this wasn’t a hospital. Fuzzy light shone through bamboo blinds. A generic yellow ceiling light hung above his head, pale in comparison to the harsh outside gleam. 

Izaya lay on a makeshift bed in some high end apartment in a makeshift operating room. Realizing this, he knew who was walking through the door before the man was all the way through. Clad in a knee length lab coat despite having no real medical degree and carrying a clear box overflowing with white fabrics was his best friend of eleven years. “Doctor Kishitani, thanks for the hospitality.” He grinned, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. 

“Oh!” The man looked up, brown hair twitching as he stopped. “Celty, he’s awake!” He hollered. Izaya fought the urge to cover his ears. “You shouldn’t be sitting up yet, Izaya. You’ll reopen your wound.”

“Ugh.” He groaned, letting his hair puff around his face as he dropped back down. Pain exploded up his back when he did. As fun as the dramatics were, that fuckin hurt.

Shinra moved to his side, taking his sweet time uncovering him and lifting his shirt. “You know, after all these years, I don’t remember the last time I treated you.” He said, slowly peeling the adhesive bandage off Izaya’s stomach, letting the tape pull the skin. He was doing that on purpose. Izaya’s mood was quickly souring. 

“I do.” Izaya thought reminiscing might distract him from the steady pulling at his hairs, and keep him from throttling this back alley doctor. “It was middle school, wasn’t it? That crazy kid with the gambling addiction.” Izaya hissed, a new burning, true burning, erupting in his side, running from his skin through his kidney and the entire surrounding area. His eyes snapped to Shinra in a fury. 

The doctor stood over him with a frown, a bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hand, a bloody swab pinched in the other. “You’re talking about when I got stabbed, Izaya.”

“Oh was that it?” If he could feel anything other than agony right now, he would have laughed. “Bummer. Ah fuck!”

Shinra had shoved another alcohol soaked swab in his wound. 

“How’d I get here anyway? Shouldn’t I be in a hospital?” Izaya asked. Shinra’s response was slow, hesitant. There was that bad feeling again. 

“Shizuo brought you.”

Izaya’s eyes widened, irritation and confusion bubbling behind them. “What?”

“He didn’t look happy about it either,” Shinra chuckled under his breath. 

The growl to his voice surprised him, Izaya’s words emanating from his chest. “Why?”

Shinra’s head tilted, eyebrows drawn. “He said you called him.”

“What a lousy liar.” Izaya groaned. 

“I need help.” Coarse concrete cooled his cheek as he listened to the low voice in his phone. That familiar voice, every word like a threat he didn’t mean, poured from the speaker, asking questions he hadn’t processed. 

“Where are you?” 

Izaya didn’t remember. “Ikebukuro.”

“That doesn’t help-”

A woman had taken the phone.

“Shit.” Izaya’s breath carried the word without his permission. He had called him. Izaya was stabbed, nearly bled out on the street, and had called Shizuo fucking Heiwajima for help. 

And the bastard actually showed up. 

“You should give him a call. At least let him know you’re alive.”

He groaned. “Why would he care?”

“Izaya,” Shinra stopped his work, hands freezing with fresh bandages. He gave the other a look like a disappointed father, one that said he was one crucial second of self control away from smacking him upside the head. “He carried you all the way here from East Ikebukuro. There was more blood on his shirt than in your body. Call him.”

Shinra held out a small device, the surface lighting up with the movement. Izaya sighed as he took the phone, making quick work of dialing the number. 

*

“Hello?” Low, gravely, but polite, that voice irked him every time. Its owner clearly hadn’t saved his number. Izaya would bet a lot of money he didn’t know how. 

“Hey, Shinra wanted me to let you know I survived.” Shinra shot him a dirty look. God, this felt like being a kid at the park again, his mom making him apologize to a kid he pushed off a swing.  He almost felt like laughing.

The voice changed immediately, sharp, short, ill-tempered. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Heya, Shizu.”

The line stayed quiet. Usually he’d hang up by now. 

“Look, I uh…” Even the thought of what he was trying to say made Izaya’s stomach curdle, his pride slowing his tongue. “Thank you.”

“Oh? What was that?” A smile crept into his voice, lifting at the sharpness in his words. 

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Izaya groaned. “Thank you for taking me to Shinra’s.”

“You’re welcome.” Good humor made Shizuo chattier than usual, the man no longer debating hanging up and now digging for the story. “How’d you get stabbed anyway?”

Izaya, on the other hand, wanted this conversation over with. “Long story, bad people. Bye bye, Shizu-chan.” He moved swiftly, pulling the phone away from his ear, thumb hovering over the bright red button. 

“Hold on,” Izaya did. The phone traveled back to his ear, albeit held further away. Not that Shizuo was hard to hear. “You, uh… You okay?”

Izaya’s eyebrow twitched. He wasn’t asking about the wound, was he? “Whatever could you mean?”

Shizuo cleared his throat. “You’re not in some shit again, are you?” 

“Aw,” Izaya drawled. “Are you worried about me?”

“Forget I asked.” The phone beeped softly, ringing through the space. The line was dead, Shizuo’s contact info staring back at him instead of the interface. 

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Shinra gathered his materials, already making his way out. “Lay down and don’t move. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

“But Doc, what if I need the bathroom.” Izaya’s characteristic smirk snaking its way onto his face. 

Shinra flicked hair out of his face, his expression flat, but voice teasing. “I’ll give you a catheter.”

Izaya was a little worried he was serious. 

*

“You’re not in some shit again, are you?”

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

“Forget I asked.”

The problem was, Izaya couldn’t forget he’d asked. In fact, the moment replayed in his head over and over again, his brain picking apart and reassembling it, like looking for secrets in a video. 

“You’re not in some shit again, are you?”

He could almost see the man, stopped on the sidewalk, his coworker walking a few strides ahead before wondering why he’d stopped. Tall despite the slouch in his shoulders, black-brown roots exposed by wind that tossed fried blond hair, head tilted into his phone, eyes angled as if making eye contact with the phone might get an honest answer. 

He could picture his face contort, where real concern might have been written, irritation blossomed. 

“Forget I asked” 

And he’d move on without a second thought. 

But why had he asked that? Why did he care? Izaya had been nothing but an obstacle to him since they met. He’d liked it that way. Izaya hated Shizuo and Shizuo hated him back, so what did he care that he was mixed up with the wrong crowd?

Why did he show up that night?

Izaya was reminded time and time again why he hated that monster. While he found fun in watching humanity, there was a part of him that relished the predictability of it all. The struggle, the fear, the anger, it was all a game, but it was a game with rules. 

He knew that if he talked to a girl on the internet in some forum and encouraged her emotions, he could control her, he could guide her into his game. Any person he messed with, he had some amount of control, some amount of influence.

But Shizuo was a raging storm, a natural force he couldn’t sway. No matter what he did, Shizuo always colored outside the lines. He was an outlier. 

And yet, his voice kept playing in Izaya’s head. Over and over again, he asked the same question, that unexpected concern like a broken record. 

It was getting on his nerves. 

Izaya pushed himself upright, taking in the makeshift operating room. Shinra had told him not to move, but there was only so long he was going to stare at that damn ceiling. He wriggled to the side of the bed, ignoring the pulling at his wound. The wooden floor was cold under his feet as he slid off the edge. A weight tugged on his arm, drawing his attention back to the bed. 

“Oh, that’s right.” He muttered. Thin tubing ran from a rack in the corner to the crook of his elbow, clear saline flowing through the plastic. Shinra had replaced the bag during the phone call, but it was almost empty, most of the liquid in Izaya’s bloodstream. A tiny valve created a dam about eight inches from the drip bag. Turning it stopped the flow into Izaya’s arm, a small amount of the liquid remaining in the tube. He drew in a quick breath as his hand drifted up his arm, fingers daintily grasping the tubing. 

He exhaled and ripped the needle from his arm. Izaya let the tubing clatter quietly against the rack as he rifled through a nearby first aid kit. Most of the bandages here were too big. He opted instead to tape a cotton ball over the spot. 

The door cracked open silently as Izaya stuck his head into the hallway. Seeing it was empty, he tread softly into the open. The living room was empty too, with the exception of Celty’s helmet, indicating that the headless woman was somewhere in the apartment, but running water in another room meant she wasn’t going to catch him any time soon. 

His shoes were placed neatly by the door, but his characteristic jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Shit…” Izaya murmured. He would be fine without the jacket, but his knife was in the stash pocket. 

There weren’t any closets near the door that it might have been hidden in, if Shinra had even meant to hide it from him. If he had, his shoes likely wouldn’t be here either. He turned, moving back to the operating room, and stopped in his tracks. 

Light shone around the edges of a knee length lab coat, Shinra blocking his way back into the apartment. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Bathroom.” Izaya shrugged. He swore he could see a vein pulse in the doctor’s forehead. Standing in the entryway with his shoes on the other side of the apartment from a bathroom probably didn’t help his lie. 

“Izaya, where are you going?”

“I just needed to clear my head. Will you allow me that?”

“You’re looking for your jacket, right?”

“I was, yeah. Don’t want to get chilly.”

Shinra sighed. Heavy fabric collided with Izaya, fur tickling his nose. It was his jacket, lacking its usual weight. His knife wasn’t in it. He sighed, slipping the sleeves over his bare arms. His t-shirt was light, picked to layer under his jacket so he wouldn’t overheat, but it left him pretty cold without the coat. Not that he cared.

“Look, Izaya.” Shinra put his hands in his pockets. “You’re still in critical condition. I’m not gonna stop you, but be careful, okay?”

“Yeah yeah,” Izaya waved a hand, slipping into the hall. 

*

The streetlights were their usual comfortable glow, pale in comparison to that burning star spot from the night before. His eyes were vigilant, flicking amongst the crowd. It was subconscious and it annoyed him. 

These were his people, his family, his playthings, and yet his own mind was betraying him, keeping him vigilant on his own playing field. Unbelievable. One kitten shows its claws and he can’t will himself to relax. 

The crowd moved like water around him, people perfectly spaced for him to pass between them. The city buzz heightened his senses, but it helped to focus his thoughts, honing them on the crowd instead of the noise in his skull. 

A girl was talking on the phone nearby, likely to a partner or a close friend. Her voice was too high, too tight, upset but trying to fight it. What he wouldn’t give to hear that phone call. 

A man passed too close beside him, distracted by the woman to his right. He was talking about drinks. Maybe coworkers? She didn’t look comfortable. It’d be fun to follow them a couple blocks. 

The crowd had parted wider, working around Izaya instead of letting him through. His brows furrowed. That wasn’t right. He wasn’t that well known, was he? “You’re a bit too good looking, Izaya. It makes you stand out in a crowd.” 

He felt himself slowing down, his limbs heavy, thoughts fast. The voices around him were whispers, too quiet to pull him out of his head. Their eyes were nervous, shifting, focused on him. No. 

Something behind him. 

Izaya went ridgid, breath picking up as if he was already running, but his legs wouldn’t move. It felt as if lead were tied around his ankles, cotton in his knees. 

He hadn’t felt fear like this since high school. That’s what this feeling was. He’d almost forgotten it. This was fear. 

“Besides,” 

He could feel the presence behind him now. 

“You’re looking kinda stressed.” 

There was a hand on his shoulder.

“I think a nap…”

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

“...Would do you a world of good.”

Izaya took off running. Pedestrians stumbled out of his way, his coat flailing behind him as he tore through the waters. This would be a good time to have his knife. Damn it, Shinra. 

“Hey, what the hell?” Part of his brain knew that voice was wrong, it didn’t match, the other part of his brain didn’t care. It was animal fear. Survival. He didn’t care who was chasing him. 

He was not getting caught.

The footsteps behind him were loud, steady, like a heartbeat. They were gaining on him. Fuck. Izaya let his weight fall on his right foot, nearly falling into the mouth of the alley. Eleven years of running for his life had paid off in this respect, movements that would slow others down were a flick of the wrist. He dashed down the alley, foot hooking on a dumpster, hands gripping a balcony rail, working in harmony to propel him upward. In mere moments, Izaya had scaled the side of a low rise apartment, taking his flight along the roof. 

A heavy impact landed not far behind him, his pursuer following him to the rooftop. This guy wasn’t normal, but in his panic, Izaya didn’t care. His abdomen was screaming. If he didn’t lose this guy fast, he might actually pass out up here. 

He leapt over a gap, the rooftops close enough together. At least they looked that way. His foot missed the other side, the toe of his boot catching the edge and slipping out from under him. Shit, this was a far fall. He bucked forward, catching himself on his stomach. 

Izaya coughed, spit flying from his mouth. Pain exploded from his side, rocketing through his entire torso, stretching from his collar to his thigh. He couldn’t get a hold. He was scrabbling for a grip, managing to hold himself despite the struggle. 

Another heavy impact almost shook him loose, the rooftop jostling beneath him. A hand caught his wrist. 

“Shit, no!” The words fled his lips before he thought them. He was drawn onto the rooftop, firmly, but without aggression. He thrashed in their grip, kicking out, hoping to hit anything. 

“Dammit!” His foot connected. The man didn’t budge. “Would you stop that? I’ll drop you!” The growl was familiar. 

His eyes caught polished shoes, the roof beneath them cracked and fractaled. The ghost of a cigarette hung in the air, clinging to the man but no longer with him.

Shizuo pulled Izaya from the edge, setting his feet down on the rooftop. There was fury in his eyes, but he wasn’t acting on it, instead backing away. 

“Why did you run like that?” He was avoiding eye contact, but it ended quickly when he realized Izaya’s only answer was staggered breathing. “Crap, sit down, would ya?”

Shizuo strode forward, grabbing Izaya by the shoulders, leading him to the access shed and sitting him down on the ground. Izaya moved easily, his brain too busy frantically looking for escape. 

“Hey, hey!” Shizuo snapped in front of his eyes, drawing their focus to himself. “Good, breathe.”

Izaya did. He drew in his breath slowly, frustrated by its trembling. If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have exhaled in the man’s face, but his lungs didn’t want to release the air, shaking harder as he breathed out. 

“Jeez,” Shizuo ran a hand through his hair. “You really are an idiot.” He pulled a yellow flip phone from his pocket, a clumsy device for a clumsy brute. If he could laugh, Izaya would have. Shizuo stood up, stepping back from Izaya’s ragdoll form. “Hey, I’ve found Izaya. He- yeah. Okay. Yeah, be there in a few.” 

He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket. His steps were lighter as they came back. He kneeled gently in front of the man, head tilted to see under Izaya’s matted hair. “Are you okay? What was all that about?”

Izaya fought for a smile, forcing his walls back up. The idea of letting this monster see him like this was driving him insane. “You caring about me now?” His breath caught again. 

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

Shizuo didn’t react, the taunting either bouncing off him or going over his head. “How’s your back?”

“Ouch-y.”

His brow twitched. “Ouch-y?”

“Yeah, ouch-y.” He tried to grin. 

“Why did you run?”

Izaya shifted, his hand on his stomach. “Anyone would run if you were behind them.” He pretended to shudder, ignoring the screaming pain from his wound. 

“Izaya,” The sincerity in his voice was alarming, a gentle rumble like summer thunder. “I’m serious, what’s wrong?”

He frowned. “I…” 

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Shizuo was suddenly flustered, pulsing open palms, as if trying to soothe him. “Just don’t cry, okay?”

“What?” Venom seeped into Izaya’s voice. Cry? He thought he’d cry in front of this monster? What a dick. 

Izaya flinched, a ripple of movement across his flushed cheeks. A bug? What bad timing. He moved to swat it away, wincing at the shooting pain through his side. His hand came away from his cheek damp. 

You’re kidding. Saline ran from his eyes against his will, a mixture of pain, relief, and embarrassment. This was ridiculous. First, he calls him for help, now he cries in front of this neanderthal? Whatever happened to his pride?

A coarse hand grazed his cheek, the cracked skin of his knuckles scraping against his face. “It’s okay, alright? You’re okay.” His eyes widened, an overwhelming feeling washing over him, one like drowning, like suffocating. 

Izaya acted before he could think. He was doing that a lot lately. Soft, warm fabric enveloped his face, the scent of cigarettes filling his sinuses, miraculously soothing his trembling breath. With his face on his chest, Izaya could hear the man’s breath catch, quiet surprise emanating from his lips. 

If he’d been thinking clearly, this would have made him vomit. But as it stood, the feeling of Shizuo’s arms hesitantly closing around his back, the subtle cigarette smell, the beat of his heart, the sound of his breath, it felt safe.

Summer thunder rumbled again, timid, unsure. Hesitant fingers lifted off his back, sticking ever so slightly as they peeled off the fabric. “Hey… You’re bleeding.”

Izaya considered lifting his head, but it was suddenly heavier than he thought it was. If he had, he might have seen the red staining Shizuo’s hands, the pallor of his cheeks, or even the frightening smear he’d left against the wall behind him. But in his exhaustion, he melted further into cigarette scented cotton and let the rest of the world fade out. 

[ouroboros-hideout]

Congratulations ouroboros-hideout! A balance of €$130000 is available for your account. This transaction may only appear in your bank after your validate your info. To do so, send short stories with "24. tender // Vlad" or "6. illusion // Aon"!

Considering for a moment if this could be spam mail from Russia. Already happend once to me where someone from that country tried to sell me a weird graphic tablet that was complete trash. Could it be the same person? But 130000 € sound too tempting. Here are the short storys kind stranger. If you need my credit card number too, let me know! <3

24. tender

He touched her face once more, knowing it would be the last time. Her skin was so tender it felt like silk under his fingertips, though the warm blood he unavoidably smeared all over her cheek somehow destroyed the sensation. He knew he should feel remorse, be ashamed or upset about what he just did. Or at least be worried he couldn't feel any of this while looking into her beautiful eyes, that where staring lifeless to the ceiling. "Oh, my sweet Gazelle...", he whispered before he stood up and left the room without another word, still trying to understand what just happened, what caused that quiet humming sound in his head and why it made him feel so powerful.

6. Illusion

A: "It won't change anything if you keep stomping and barking around like an angry little boy. Yes, it sucks they screwed you over but what's done is done. You can't control everything Kurt, no matter how hard you wish you could."

K: "I HAD EVERYTHING under control. We worked weeks for that and the fucking plan was waterproof."

A: "And yet it went to shit. There is no thing like full control, that's just a lie we like to tell ourselves, an illusion to make us feel better. In the end everything you do is just a reaction to an action. Plans are a nice warm blanket you put around your shoulders to feel save but when the winds get too cold you'll still freeze your ass off if you don't react to that and make a fire instead."

K: "Yea. Great. Thank you for the metaphor, exactly what I need right now."

A: "Okay, whatever. Cry your eyes out about your lost tech or shoot at the sky if it makes you feel better. Or get a grip - think that would look like a man who is in control of everything."

[ascendingtostardust]

Yet To Wander

Chapter Two

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: talk of first date nervousness, brief mention of food, pretty much just fluff this chapter

A/n: here’s part 2 to YTW (finally)! Catch up with part 1 here and feel free to let me know what you think :)

You pick your phone up and smirk at Sam’s text, letting it slide back out of your hand onto the cold countertop of your bathroom vanity to continue getting ready.

Don’t text back too quickly, but don’t make him wait too long, you thought. Getting lost in your head for a moment, another text came through to bring you back to reality.

‘Also we’re still good for 7, right? I don’t want to rush you or anything 🤪’

Throwing Annie’s silly texting rules for dating out of your mind, you slide your phone closer to you again and confirm that 7 is perfect. It felt silly worrying about how fast to text back, what emojis to use and not use, and what kind of language to use with Sam. It all just felt so…natural.

After staying up way too late messaging him the first night you matched and then almost all day the following day, it was an easy decision to give him your number when he not-so-smoothly asked. The two of you had been texting for just a few days, but you knew you were on a slight time crunch and getting the first date out of the way was something that needed to happen as soon as possible. If Sam didn’t end up working out as a possible wedding date, you’d need to either get back on the market or accept that you’re attending a wedding solo after sending in your RSVP with a plus one.

Sam was actually the one who brought up the idea of taking you out, stating that the only thing you needed to do was tell him when you were free and then show up to the address he provided. To ease your mind and try to dispel any initial worries that he may just be sending you to a random abandoned parking lot, he did tell you right away that you’d be meeting him at a botanical garden just outside of the city. He offered to pick you up so that you didn’t have to drive yourself over there, but Annie agreed that it would be best for you to drive yourself and meet him there in case he turned out to be a total creep.

Sam texted you the last little detail of the date that you needed to know just a few hours before you’d be meeting him at the garden, keeping the rest a complete secret.

‘By the way, wear something comfortable tonight!! I can send you a pic of what I’m wearing when I get dressed so that you know what to go for if you want 😌’

Not sure what you were getting yourself into when hesitantly agreeing to receive a photo from an -almost- stranger, you were pleasantly surprised with what he sent back just a few minutes later. It was a mirror selfie taken in, what you assumed to be, his sizable walk-in closet. He donned a pair of loose grey pants with white stripes, a basic black tshirt, and simple blue sneakers. You found yourself holding back a smile as you looked over the photo, taking in him as well as his environment. A minute later, another text came in from Sam:

‘Oh and I’m bringing a sweatshirt!’

His energy and clear excitement about the date he had planned was infectious and much different from the men you had gone out with before, who seemed to feel obligated to go out instead of actually wanting to. It was strange, typically you found yourself at least a little nervous and panicky when it came to a first date but with Sam you realized you were actually excited to meet him and spend time with him.

You would never voice these feelings, of course, especially to Annie who insisted on asking for updates at least twice a day since you told her that you and Sam had begun texting. She knew that you had a date with him tonight and that’s all she was going to know about it until you decided to share more.

With the help of Sam’s reference photo, you chose an outfit that made you feel good but was also comfortable enough for whatever he had planned. You had never been to the garden, having looked at it online numerous times after moving to the city but never getting the chance to get over there. It looked beautiful, but you weren’t sure how much there would be to do there at 7pm on a random Friday night. When 6:30 rolled around, you looked in the mirror once more before turning your bathroom light off and grabbing the sweatshirt you had laid on your bed along with your bag, saying a quick goodbye to Annie and heading out the door.

The drive to the garden was rather uneventful, the sun already dipping below the horizon when you arrived and texted Sam where you were parked so that he could find you. Only a moment later you heard a light tap on your window and jumped slightly, looking over to see Sam slightly crouched to give you a smile and wag of his fingers. Again, any anxiety that had creeped in during the drive completely melted away when you saw him, excitedly grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and climbing out of the car.

Sam didn’t think twice before opening his arms and hesitantly going in for a hug, not sure if it was okay with you, which you immediately stepped into to hug him back.

“Hi,” you heard him breathe out before pulling away from you. “I’m glad you found the place, I know it’s a little tucked away back here.”

‘Tucked away’ it was. So much so that you almost drove right past the entrance, which essentially was just a wide gravel road that eventually led to a mansion made of tan stone. Cut into the beautiful mansion were tall white windows, two of which from the upper level held a large white ‘sheet’ against the side of the building. You didn’t think much of it, knowing that you’d enjoy whatever Sam had up his sleeve for the evening.

“It actually wasn’t too bad! It’s my first time here, though, so I’m excited to see what this place is all about.” You smile at him, noting the slight pink of his cheeks and wondering if yours look the same. He was somehow even prettier in person and you tried not to get too flustered.

“Well I’m not sure how much of the grounds we’ll be exploring tonight, but I think you’ll enjoy what we’ve got planned for tonight.” He turned to begin walking towards the mansion in the distance along a dirt walking path lined with tall trees.

“Shall we?” He asked, motioning towards the path and extending his arm in an ‘after you’ gesture.

“We shall!” You try not to show your giddiness as you fall into step with him, conversation slowly freely and easily between the two of you as you get closer to the building. A large banner comes into view just before you reach an opening, ‘Welcome to Movie Night In the Garden!’ written in red letters printed across it.

“Movie night?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. “What movie are we seeing?” A smile spread m across your lips in response to his own as he looked over to gauge your reaction to his little surprise.

“Well, you see, I came across a flier for this event a day after we started talking and after seeing what movie was playing tonight, I knew I had to take you here. It was just too perfect…with you looking for a wedding date and all.”

“Sam!” You giggle, “what movie is it?”

“Uh…27 Dresses?” He responds, a hint of worry that you were about to tell him that you despise the movie evident in his voice. You see him glance over at you to gauge your reaction, but all he’s met with is a smile from you and you can almost feel the relief flood through him.

“Oh, I love that movie!” You assure him, getting close enough to him to playfully bump your shoulder into his while continuing to walk to the makeshift viewing area. “Who doesn’t?”

Finally getting a look at the clearing in front of the mansion that the garden employees turned into a viewing area for the event almost took your breath away. The sun had fully rested for the day during your walk over with Sam and the string lights of pale yellow, strung in a zig-zag pattern across the top of the lawn between bordering trees on either side of the viewing area had been switched on. They did little to illuminate the space, clearly meant to cause little distraction from the movie that would be projected onto the side of the mansion on the giant white sheet that you had noted before.

Blankets were set up around the sizable yard, the plush green grass underneath providing support and comfort to those getting their areas set up for the evening. Young girls and their moms, older friend groups, and even a few couples clearly on a date night just like you were were amongst the dozens of people tossing their blankets on the ground and getting snacks and drinks set up around them.

“Here okay?” Sam asked, motioning to the open space towards the back of the crowd that you had found.

“That’s perfect,” you respond, coming back to the moment after getting lost in observation. You weren’t sure if you were talking about the spot in the grass or the date itself, but either way the statement would be truthful.

Sam lets a tan tote bag slide off his shoulder, which you hadn’t even noticed him holding before, and into the grass softly before crouching down to pull out a deep green blanket with black fringe around the edges, an elegant sun woven onto the material in black. He laid it down carefully, smoothing his large hands over to make sure that it laid just right, and motioned for you to sit.

“Please make yourself comfortable as I prepare our snacks for the evening.”

You take a seat on the blanket, legs folded in front of you, and lean back on your hands to watch Sam pull small containers of miscellaneous snacks out of the tote bag and set them up between the two of you meticulously. A bowl of veggies next to a larger bowl of hummus, individual ziplock bags filled with pre-popped popcorn, a bowl filled with various cheeses and a small cup of honey with, what looked like, dried fruit sprinkled in between, and lastly, chocolate covered strawberries.

“Sam, this is…you didn’t have to do all this for a first date, I would’ve been fine with a snickers bar from the concession stand over there.” You laugh lightly and watch his cheeks turn a light hue of pink again.

“Well I forgot to ask what kind of food you like so I just figured I’d bring a little of everything.” He smiled bashfully at you, nervously picking at the skin around his nails as he settled in next to you on the other side of the spread he just laid out. “Oh! And I dipped the strawberries this morning so I hope they came out okay.”

Just like over text, his excitement about this date was infectious and also evident in the amount of effort that he put in to make sure that things went well. You opened your mouth to tell him that no guy had ever even bought you flowers, let alone dipped strawberries for you for a first date. Just as the words were about to slip past your lips, though, the lights dimmed further and the first frame of the movie was projected onto the white sheet hanging against the mansion as an employee greeted everyone through a microphone.

The movie began to play and you and Sam exchanged small glances and timid smiles every few minutes, though you swore you could feel him looking at you more often than you caught him. Eventually, though, the snacks he brought were effectively picked through and Sam had packed them up to confidently take their place beside you, sitting almost close enough to touch your hip with his. The closer he got, the more your heartbeat quickened and the harder it was to focus on the movie playing in front of you.

Suddenly, you felt his warm fingers brush softly against yours and lay still on top of your hand until Sam got the courage to intertwine his fingers with yours, both of you still looking straight ahead. It didn’t feel awkward, though, like the first time holding hands with someone new typically did. It felt natural, it felt right. As you crossed through to the second half of the film, you let your head fall to rest on his shoulder, padded by his thick sweatshirt adorning a faded Michigan logo.

You didn’t know it, but he almost leaned down and kissed the top of your head because it felt right…but instead he began rubbing the top of your hand gently with his thumb and all you could do was smile.